Lyanna Barrett: A Fictional Narrative

In the beginning of the story, Mama felt criticized by her daughter Dee, who came back to visit her mom after experiencing a different life beyond her poverty stricken home. For example, when describing herself, Mama is proud of her life as a “big boned woman with rough, man-working hands” (70). She takes pride in the painstaking life that she has as a single mother who has supported and fed both her daughters in the absence of a working man in a time period in which men’s role as the provider and head of the household was prominent. Mama’s self pride is further seen as she brags that she can “clean a hog as merciless as a man” (70). Despite Mama’s positive image of herself, she lets Dee’s image of her mom taint her self image. Mama views herself through the eyes of her daughter as she describes

The instructor had the right to correct the misunderstanding of Richard, on the other hand, her choice of words and tone of voice was unforgivable. The overwhelming emotion to buy himself a daddy by quintupling his original amount caused him a grave mistake followed by a lesson he did not expect to learn at that moment. Her patience came to a halt when he offered a donation from his “daddy”. She then proceeded by slapping him with the cold truth by saying, “We are collecting this money for you and your kind, Richard Gregory. If your daddy can give fifteen dollars you have no business being on relief”, she then added, “We know you don’t have a daddy”. In that instance he became the center of attention. Helene quickly turned to see him with a teary eyes that showed sympathy towards him. There was much shame in the room, his eyes were full of tears which caused him to run away. From his perspective, it was as if everyone in the world witnessed his shame. His fellow classmates just felt sorry for him, but said nothing when the instructor lashed out at him. Now he understood that society was cruel to him by hosting their events such as the Worthy Boys Annual Christmas Dinner. It was if ignorance was a blessing rather than the harsh reality of his status. The jacket he received from welfare singled him out from the crowd not to mention it

I wanted to say I'm sorry for the Instagram pages and all of the rude stuff that I had said. I realize that it was stupid and ignorant and that I had gone too far as soon as I made the page. Yeah, we had our issues, but that was over until I had brought it up again and dragged you back into it and I'm sorry for that. I admit that the whole idea was out of anger and stupidity and I acted on it instead of just letting it go or even talking to you if it had really bothered me to the point of all of this. I honestly regret ever making the account and ruining your morning, I'm sorry. If this bothers you after, then if you feel comfortable, we can talk, no drama, no pages, no talking behind backs just talk. If not I am okay with that,

The women’s is not nearly as long as the men’s. Her short unfilled sentences reflected the life’s the women had to face. “Dinner was ready. Here was the soup.” The change in style changes the whole mood of the story. It makes it gloomy and depressing following the previous passage which was lush. The food served was “plain gravy soup”, “sprouts curled and yellowed at the edge”, shows the dramatic shift in the description. Only some of the food the women were given was described in little detail but when described it was in a bad manner. They received “uncharitable vegetable (fruit they are not), stringy as a miser’s heart and exuding a fluid such as might run in misers’ veins’”. When the meal was reaching its end, “everybody scraped backed their chairs”. None of the women paused to look back on how great their life was and how they can’t wait to come back next meal. Instead, “the swing-doors swung violently to and fro” and the dining hall was emptied and being arranged for the next

Three weeks after we had settled into Grandpa Greene’s whitewashed bungalow mom and I were sitting at the dinner table, next to two empty chairs when the telephone rang in the middle of franks, macaroni and cheese, and my least favorite Brussels sprouts. As mom rose to answer, I seized the opportunity to heap some macaroni and cheese on top of the lopsided pile of Brussels sprouts. I was smiling to myself at the clever way I’d camouflaged the sprouts when mom let the phone fall with a clattering clang and a single sob-absolutely devastated. She sank to the floor, still dressed in her work scrubs—a yellow and green bunny printed top and purple pants she’d worn to the hospital where she treated sick kids. Her long auburn hair was pulled up into a messy twist, with strands falling down around her pretty perfect features now pinched and stretched. “It was dad.”

I looked around the diner to see what startled my mother so badly that she’d made the entire establishment suffer through her second-hand embarrassment. When my eyes met Jess’ over the counter, I realised immediately what had shocked her so strongly. I tried not to make eye contact with my mother as we both sat back down in our now upright chairs. Jess smirked at me and offered a wink that I pretended not to even notice. I managed to hide my smile sufficiently until after Luke called for Jess’ help in looking for the apparently lost

“Get out, you’re not welcome here!” My mother exclaimed. My eyes were as wide as saucers. From what I could hear, my mother's voice was no longer expressionless. It had a light, feathery softness to it and yet it was strong and clear.

The waitress was an older woman with dark hair piled up on her head. She directed them to a table by a window. “Can I get you anything to drink while you look at the menu?” She gave off a warm motherly aura which made the patrons comfortable. It took only a split second for Lila to decide tonight there was going to be no wine.

I followed her to a secluded area where no one could see or hear us. The second we were away she pounced on me.

“Yes.” It reached for me. “Come with me, child.” It was a woman now, her voice like syrup and honey and her touch like warmth after frost. “See your life.”

“Lynnette!” I screamed, tearing through the eerie silence that lay like dust upon the furniture covered in sheets. Running up the stairs, I tripped, falling on the hardwood floor, hair stuck to my head with perspiration.

She shakes her head slightly, and I swear, her voice gets deeper as she explains, “No, I want my mama to die faster so I’ll have food to eat.”

In December, the March girls Meg, Jo, Amy, and Beth sat at home. They lived with their parents and the family servant, Hannah. The March family used to be very wealthy, but Mr. March lost all of it and had to serve as the Union in the Civil War. He was not going to be home for Christmas and this disappointed the girls. The March’s had very rich neighbors. One of those neighbors was Mr. Laurence had gave the March family a very nice dinner in thankfulness for the nice play they had put on. Jo really enjoyed the food Mr. Laurence had brought the previous night. She wanted to meet Mr. Laurence’s grandson because she wasn’t one who liked to play with girls. Jo was most definitely a tom-boy.

McCreeps turned back around, juice carton in hand. Upon seeing the boy’s terrified face, he turned back to see what he was staring at,” Oh this? Like I said, my boy, the woman certainly did provide a lot for Adande. Sure, it just made it harder to cook her up, but on the bright side there are tons of leftovers!”

The sun was setting low in the sky behind them, before her grandfather spoke again. He said, “We ought to be to Eli 's cabin in about another mile. We’ll get there just in time for some of Nancy 's good cooking. No disrespect meant, but I 'm tired of eating your and mine cooking,” he said. “I always look forward to visiting with them-” he chuckled. “I never told your grandma this, but I’ll tell you; that Nancy, she sure can cook, real good. Her cooking is better than anyone else’s cooking I‘ve ever eaten, even your grandma‘s. O‘course, your grandma didn‘t know nothing but Indian cooking when I married her- which I ain‘t a saying is a bad thing-”