The Drawing Room

After all of the happenings of the day, it had finally come. A little after four o' clock in the afternoon, a picture was being drawn: a mother, sitting at a desk writing letters, a father, paying bills, and the daughter, sitting in a comfortable chair, reading a comfortable book.

The daughter knew the reasons for her mother's letters. Although her mother hated doing this, she would, none the less, continue her daily routine of writing letters. The time would soon come when their connections and popularity in society would come to good use. Her daughter would no longer be a young lady, but rather, a woman. Marriage would become part of her daughter's life; the new woman would leave her parents for her handsome new husband. However, that time had not yet come. Her daughter was a mere 13 years of age, just recently introduced to society as a young lady: not yet a woman, but no longer a child.

So now we go to the daughter's point of view. They all sit in the drawing room, her father, thinking of bills and payments, her mother, thinking of her daughter's future, and she, thinking of how she loves this time when they all come together and do their part. This is the time of day to escape from the things around her. When reading her books, she imagines herself as part of the plot. All around her disappears, she becomes engaged in the different stories of

knights in shining armor, princesses finding love, and normal, everyday people finding out what means the most to them in life. As her mother writes, she cannot help but wish that her daughter would never leave her, never grow old, and that they will spend eternity together. Knowing how little time she has left with her precious daughter, she turns around, forgetting what she is doing, and says,

"Oh, Beth, you grow older every day. I fear that you will be leaving me all too soon."

Beth puts her book aside and looks at her mother. With a proper, loving voice she says, "I will never leave you, mother."

Of course there is always the father's opinion on things and suddenly he stands up, saying, "My darlings, we must all be proper here. This is not the time of day, nor any time at all for such talk."

Things quiet down, but the mother still has something to say, "My husband, may I be so bold as to ask how the payments are coming along?"

"Just fine, Mary, just fine," he replies, sitting back down to continue with the bills.

"And how is your reading coming along?" the mother asks her daughter.

"Just fine, mother, just fine," the daughter replies. "And your letters, mother?"

"Just as well as ever, my child. I am writing to your dear Aunt Josephine. What would you have me say to her for you?" the mother answers.

"Say to her that I am doing well and promise to always take care of her when she is too old to take care of herself," she answers with a chuckle.

The father, having had enough of this, stands again, grumbling, "You will bring us to ruin with such talk."

Such fooling around is the way of things between a mother and a daughter at this time of day in the drawing room. The mother returns to her letters, the father now engages in his studies, and the daughter turns to her book of lessons and fantasies. This relaxed time, about four o'clock in the afternoon, is the daughter's favorite time of the day.

Although her mother hates writing letters and her father hates paying bills, she still loves it with all of her heart. She loves her book, the break from the happenings of the day, and the moments that occur in this quaint drawing room, but most of all she loves her mother.