Post by claire roselle geanne on Mar 5, 2012 19:44:46 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 380px; border-left: 20px solid #595454; background-image:url(http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/tt7/Sara_Shadow/PRIVATE/texture.jpg); padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px;] claire roselle geanne YOU HAVE A WAY OF COMING EASILY TO ME AND WHEN YOU TAKE YOU TAKE THE VERY BEST OF ME SO I START A FIGHT BECAUSE I NEED TO FEEL SOMETHING AND YOU DO WHAT YOU WANT ‘CAUSE I’M NOT WHAT YOU WANTED OH WHAT A |
shame, what a
rainy end given
to a perfect day
Momma, momma?! a tiny hand touched her shoulder as words fell upon deaf ears. Claire looked up from the desk, where she was researching her topic for an upcoming paper in her senior comp class, and turned her attention to the little two year old bouncing in place. Immediately the child went from the verbal way of speaking she’d done moments before, to immediately moving her hands in rapid motions, starting with her right hand held out, her left hand index finger sliding across the palm, followed by the “F” letter held against her head, then bringing her right hand fingers, closed as if she were doing a birds head out of her fingers, and touching it to her lips, before immediately swooping her hand down, her left arm held horizontal, and her right hand coming up. Translation? What’s for breakfast? Turning in her chair, Claire picked the tiny child up, settling her in her lap, before responding in the same language, copying the sign for ‘what’, before pointing to the child, then cupping both her hands, and pulling them to her chest. “What you want?
[/color]” Instantly her daughter slid off her lap, running the moment she got to the floor, and coming back holding a newspaper clipping, and pointing to the words ‘Denny’s’, her gaze hopeful. Claire smiled, before signing back, “Go get ready, Kita; we’ll leave in an hour.” Unlike in most cases, Kita’s name wasn’t hand spelled, but rather a “K” circled above Claire’s heart. She’d given Kita her deaf name the moment the child was old enough to copy it back.It was a very different household for these two, considering Claire was only eighteen, and still completing her senior year of high school. That and their family consisted of Claire, and Kita, no father to even be remotely mentioned. Not that Claire minded; she was more than prepared to accept this as the way things were. She and Kita, they were more than just a happy set, they were a family, one that laughed together, cried for one another, and did what ever it took to make things work out. And things were working out. Claire was working two part time jobs before and after school. She had enough breaks, and free periods that it worked out well. Kita went to the local nursery from about 5:45, 15 minutes before Claire had to be at her first job, she’d pick her up around 12, for a thirty-minute lunch together. After that, Claire had classes until 3, and Kita was doing some ‘early placement’ classes to keep her entertained, at the local elementary school. At 3, she and Kita would go out to do something for about two hours, then form 5 to 7 in the evening, Claire worked her second job, before coming home (picking Kita up from the babysitter’s house) making dinner for her then heading to bed. It was a good system, for both Claire and Kita, though Claire was worried about how much time Kita had to spend away while she was either working or attending her classes. She tried her best to keep Kita happy, and the child certainly seemed happy, but Claire knew better than anyone else how easy it is to hide how you really feel. After all, she had been doing it for years when she was still living at home.
It had been really easy for her to go from a normal, well not really that normal, sixteen year old, to a teen mother. She’d always been mature for her age, and extremely motherly towards those she sees in a weak defense. But, having her own child, the one thing she wasn’t prepared for was having someone dependent on you for all their needs. Sure, she could be motherly, take care of someone, but she had not been prepared for the wild card, the whole ‘this person NEEDS you twenty four seven.’ It had changed things for her drastically. Though, in no way did she regret deciding to keep Kita. She was her little girl, the joy of her life, such a bright light. It was like, with Kita around, the world could do no evil towards them. Kita only saw the good, and she helped make Claire a better person because of it. All of a sudden, the little girl in question was standing in front of her again, her bright, blonde hair pulled up messily, pigtails lopsided, and her shirt on backwards, all ready! Let’s go! the child signed, as Claire rolled her eyes, pulling her shirt off, and turning it around before putting it back on the right way. She motioned towards the couch, before signing the word for sit, and then began to straighten out Kita’s hair, until the pigtails were straight, and her hair pulled back tidily. Swatting Kita playfully, Claire grabbed her purse, before putting her coat on and her hearing aids in, followed by bundling up the two year old, with her thick, downy coat. Once done, she took Kita’s hand, before leading her outside, to her run down, beat up car.
It wasn’t a car meant to be proud of, but it was her own car. She buckled Kita into the backseat, settling her into her car seat, before sliding into the driver’s seat, and buckling up. Turning the car on, immediately the sound of Kita’s favorite music, a collection of songs from the Barbie movies, started up again, sending the child into singing along. Smiling, and glancing towards Kita once more to make sure she was settle in alright, Claire began to back up, before driving towards Denny’s, hoping it wouldn’t be to busy for 10 in the morning on a Saturday. The drive lasted about 10 minutes, 15 tops, before she found a parking spot and got out, before helping Kita out. Together, hand in hand, the mother and daughter began their way towards the hostess table, before requesting a table for two, trying not to sigh in defeat when she was told that it would be a fifteen-minute wait. Sitting down on the cushions lining the entrance walk, Claire pulled Kita up next to her, smiling as the child pouted about having to wait. It was only fifteen minutes, after all . . . so surely it wouldn’t be to long or hazardous, and Kita would be able to eat soon.
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