Author's note: I hope that people take from this story that you need to treasure all the time that you have with... Show full author's note »
PrologueI hate potatoes. Yet what am I peeling right now, and will I have to eat for supper, and every other meal? And tomorrow will be awful. I’ll have to eat Ma’s Sunday potato dish and go to church all in the same day. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a good Catholic lass at heart; however, Father Machonnaghy puts me to sleep, and while Da finally allowed me to sit with my friend Rose, all we can do is giggle at the ugly lads. There is absolutely no way that I’m marrying one of those clods.
“Stop staring into space and start peeling!” Ma has spoken. Well, I guess its back to my potatoes.
Peel, Peel, Peel. It seems like that’s all that I do around here. Of course my sister can’t do it. “You’re younger that me, you should do it. Besides, peeling potatoes would ruin my hands. Let me look at yours… see, this proves my point. At least one of us should have perfect hands and be able to get married. Guess who it is Maureen… ME. Ta-ta ugly, I’m off to do some embroidery. You see, boys are impressed by girls that have perfect skin and can do embroidery. Not girls with tanned skin and ripped dresses. Oh wait; I just described you, didn’t I?” I can just see her doing that, hands on hips, her nasally voice making fun of me while her long nose is pointed up in the air. Actually I can imagine it so well because she just came in the kitchen and said that exact thing to me five minutes ago. Ugly indeed. I am not vain like she is, but I know that I am not ugly. If anyone in this house is ugly it would be her. She has a long pointy nose, carrot-red hair, and freckles all over her face. I on the other hand am tall and slender, have auburn hair, and zero freckles. Not to sound conceited, but that is what I look like, and many people in town have called me pretty. Besides, at least I can sing alright. We are both are in the choir, and while I can at least blend in and carry a tune, she couldn’t carry a tune if it was in a bucket with a lid on it. I guess a career in performance is out for her. As for the tanned skin and ripped dresses bit, I’d rather be a tomboy than a pale priss who can’t even wash dishes. I just now noticed that I’m finished all but for one potato. I guess venting my anger helps me to peel faster. I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time.