Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesday child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
Yes, Saturdays child works hard for a living, how well I remember my Great Grandma (known to me as G.G.) reading this to me on one of my visits when I was very young. Written to help children learn their days of the week, it was just special to me. Little did I know at the time what this meant, yep I was a Saturday baby. But this memory just runs into my most vivid memory of my G.G. ...
That shirt or as she would say her "blouse" that she wore for as long as I can remember. She must of had a secret stash of them for nearly every time I envision her standing in front of me, I see the shirt. It was her calling card, her work horse, her signature. The red and white checkered collared shirt. It even had a certain smell that if you close your eyes you could tell she'd been there. When asked what I wanted of hers when she died, all I could think of was that shirt. That shirt is a sign of strength and patience to me, the two qualities that made her shine. I saw her scrub the kitchen floor with that shirt of strength and I remember her firm but patient discipline when I was out of line. G.G. was my one constant, she was always there in spirit and she never changed in my eyes. She was a no nonsense kind of woman but had the softest touch when you needed it. She worked harder that any single person I know and I never once heard her complain. She always put God and her family first and prayed harder for us than anyone else. Even when I was at my lowest thinking no one cared, I knew every morning she'd be on her knees wearing out her bathmat by the tub praying for me.
Now every time I put on that shirt it's like I'm putting on that "superman cape". In my childhood eyes she was the "super woman" I wanted to be like. I know she wasn't perfect but in my eyes she was as perfect as you can get. Those red and white checkers are my signature work horse now. I wear it with her memory lingering on it. It sounds silly but the feeling is overwhelming when I put it on, like superman donning his cape. Shoulders back, head up, and girded with strength and every ounce of patience I can muster.
I'd like to think she's right there passing the torch for Saturdays Child works hard for her living.