Tangled Yarn

Tangled Yarn

by Katrina Weiring

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       Sunshine shone through the windows touching and outlining the two girls as they sat at what seemed to be a dining-room table.  The room was furnished with a pine table, a china cabinet in one corner, and a miniature black cook stove in the other.  Two girls sat at the table, and another stood next to the stove.
    “I still don’t get it!  You said to put the carrots in before the water was brought to a boil.  Now you say that I was supposed to boil the water before adding the carrots.  Why don’t you make dinner thing afternoon instead of teaching me?  It makes no sense since you aren’t really paying any attention to what I am doing,” exclaimed a slightly frazzled eleven year old.  She wore a faded pink dress that had the look of being passed down by several young ladies.
    “Oh, Jessie you didn’t!  I told you to boil the water beforehand!  Why don’t you ever listen to me…?”
“I do, you just never give me all your instructions, thank you!” remarked Jessie.
“Oh, never mind what I said,” sighed the elder girl at the table, “I’ll be over there in a minute.  I want to try and get Geneva set up with this knitting before I show you what to do next.”
    “Then what should I do?” asked a puzzled Geneva, “I thought the needle went in through the loop towards me, but now the yarn is all tangled up!  I can’t do this anymore.  It’s too confusing, Hazel!”




    “You can’t give up now, Geneva.  You’re a big girl, and you can learn how to knit just as well as I can.  Here.  I’ll show you one more time and then I have to go help Jessie, alright?”
    “Alright,” agreed Geneva as she settled down once more to her knitting, “I put this needle in towards me—wait.  No the needle points away, right?”
 
    “That’s right, now you keep on with that, and I will be right back to check on your progress,” encouraged Hazel as she stood up and stepped across the room to the stove.
    “Okay.  So I cut up the sausage, but I don’t remember what to do with the tomato—and what this plum was for anyway?” asked Jessie, a little less anxious than before.
    “Right—the sausage goes in with the potatoes and carrots.  I would just cut the tomatoes for the salad, and the plums can be put in the fruit bowl.  I really appreciate you doing this Jessie because I’ve just been out of it lately—”
 
    “That’s for sure,” mumbled Jessie.
    “—and with mother sick, it’s been really hard for me to cope with everything.  Anyway, I have to go to town and get the vegetables to the stand before noon.  You’ll have everything ready for lunch when I get back, right?”
 
    “Yes, me-lady” replied Jessie.
    “I’ll be back in about two hours,” Hazel told them.
     Now I’m left here to watch after Geneva: she’ll probably want help with her knitting, and oh won’t that be so much fun, thought Jessie to herself. I’m tired of keeping up house here.  Hazel always gets to go to town while I stay here having to cook, and failing in the attempt.  And then when I make disgusting meals, I get blamed for it when I don’t even know how to make a proper meal.  Hazel is always occupied with something else instead of telling me what I need to cook, and since mother is sick, no one else can teach me.  I will learn how to cook—then no one will be able to tease me for having uncooked carrots—
    “Jessie,” exclaimed a tense Geneva, “my yarn is tangled!”