Ellie's Treasures
(This post contains an affiliate link. If you go through it to make a purchase I will earn a small commission. I’m sharing because I value the product and not because of the commission I receive.)
This past week, I finished reading the award-winning book Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus, a novel about the struggles of a female chemist in the late 1950s and early 60s. Though somewhat exaggerated, it highlights the inequality of the sexes of that era and clearly reminded me of the roles of mother and housewife I grew up with in the 60s and 70s. Although I’m ever thankful for my mother and the sacrifices she made for our family, I’m certainly glad times have changed!
Even though women today have the same career choices as men (though I wouldn’t say our opportunities and compensation are equal yet), we all make sacrifices when balancing our families and our careers. If you haven’t yet listened to Kate Bowler’s interview with Mary Louise Kelly, do check it out! It’s a perfect reminder of this balance and a great segue way into Mother’s Day.
Speaking of Mother’s Day, today, as I did last week, I’m sharing another “Mom Story.” Ellie’s Treasures was written for an assignment in the writing class I recently finished. We were asked to take an old photo and imagine a story, real or made up, to go with it.
If you’ve watched the Netflix show Inventing Anna, you might remember the line at the beginning of each episode: “This whole story is completely true. Except for the parts that are completely made up.” That’s how I would describe this new story of mine. As my first attempt at “historical fiction,” it was a fun exercise. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Ellie’s Treasures
Eleanor stood at the kitchen sink, gazing toward the farmyard behind the house. The December days were getting shorter, and the sun’s glow from the west left a trace of gold on the shed’s roof.
With dinnertime approaching, Harold would be in soon, and hungry. She finished peeling and slicing the potatoes, layering them with the ground beef mixture in the casserole dish. Her family loved “Tastee Hot Dish” and it was an easy way to stretch the dollar. With sides of green beans from the cellar–put up from last year’s garden–and the homemade applesauce she retrieved from the freezer earlier that afternoon, the meal would be complete.
Thinking of her family reminded her that she hadn’t seen 2-year-old Linda for a few minutes. What was that little one up to now? “Phyllis? Barbara? Have you seen your sister?”
“Yes, Mom. She’s dancing by the record player,” Phyllis replied.
Ellie smiled. The Christmas music lifted everyone’s spirits and Linda seemed especially happy when music was playing. As Bing Crosby sang I’ll Be Home for Christmas, Ellie hummed along in harmony.
With dinner in the oven, she called Phyllis to the kitchen to help set the table. The seven-year-old enjoyed arranging the silverware, plates, and bowls, and Ellie knew she’d be counting on her oldest for even more help in the months and years to come. It was never too early to start teaching responsibility.
Phyllis left her drawing and colored pencils on the dining room table and entered the kitchen, her five-year-old sister Barbara trailing behind, arms wrapped around several blankets and a baby doll.
“Can I help too?” Barbara asked.
“Of course!” Ellie said. “Here. You take the spoons and set them next to the knives.” Barbara dropped her soft bundle to the floor and happily took the spoons.
“We have five plates now, but pretty soon we’ll have six, right, Mommy?” Phyllis wondered aloud.
“Well, yes, but not too soon,” Ellie said, her hand gently gracing the slight bulge in her midsection. They had just told the girls that their family would be growing come spring, and it was all the girls could talk about.
She was feeling the weariness of carrying another baby. With three little girls already, she hoped this fourth one would be the boy her husband so wanted to help carry on the farming someday. Of course, she wouldn’t trade her girls for anything, but it was common knowledge that a girl couldn’t become a farmer. Farmwife? Yes. But farming was a man’s job.
With dinner in the oven, Ellie walked to the living room to check on her toddler. Sinking into the couch, her body told her it needed a break. Linda was toddling near the Christmas tree, gazing at the lights, and enamored by the ornaments. She had been told many times not to touch, but like fruit on the tree in the garden of Eden, those glistening baubles were very tempting.
“Mmm…I hungry,” the little redhead said as she crinkled her nose, smelling the goodness from the kitchen.
“I know, I know,” Ellie answered. “Supper won’t be long now. Mommy just needs a rest.”
“Need a rest?” Linda echoed.
“Uh huh,” Ellie said as she picked up her Redbook magazine. She loved perusing the latest clothing and jewelry ads. It reminded her of her teenage dream of owning a jewelry store in town. Ha! Being a jeweler was a far cry from the farmwife she had become. With her feet up on the ottoman and her tired body enveloped by the couch, she heard Bing’s voice singing Silver Bells. The words and melody slowly faded as she drifted off to sleep.
Within minutes she was standing behind a jewelry counter, smiling cheerfully. The silver bells above the door jingled as the customers entered. The window behind them was emblazoned with the store’s name “Ellie’s Treasures.” The logo, painted above the name, displayed a crown with five jewels–four pink tourmalines and one blue sapphire. Since Ellie loved beauty, art, and symmetry, she was confused as to why the blue stone was not in the center, but instead, on the right, in the fourth position.
She helped her customers find the jewels they were in search of—pearls, garnets, and opals—ones she knew well, as they were her three daughters’ birthstones.
Ellie was awakened by a flutter–a movement in her belly that caused her heart to leap with excitement. It was the first time this little one had made his presence known. His presence. Suddenly she knew this baby would be that boy she and Harold had wished for. He would carry on the family name and the farm. And if they had their boy, there’d be no need to get pregnant again. Four little ones were enough! While she loved being a wife and mother, the day-to-day grind of farm wife life was tiresome. She wanted to escape to that jewelry store again where she was surrounded by glitz and glamour. Where was the glory in changing diapers and feeding her hungry brood?
“Apple?” Ellie was startled by little Linda’s voice and opened her eyes. There she stood by the tree, holding a bright red satin ball ornament, ready to take a bite.
Ellie chuckled. “Oh, honey, you don’t want to eat that apple! It’s shiny and pretty, but it won’t taste good! Let’s go find you some of Mommy’s homemade applesauce instead!”
Homemade. The word brought comfort. It reminded Ellie that the home she was making for her family was sweet, beautiful, and something she could be proud of. Making a home wasn’t as glamorous as owning a jewelry store, to be sure. But despite its challenges, nothing brought greater joy than the smiles on the faces of her children and the love and appreciation from her husband. These were her treasures and the only jewels she truly needed.
Ellie replaced the ornament on the tree, guided little Linda by the hand to the kitchen, and served up a dish of homemade applesauce. Her three daughters–like the precious pearl, garnet, and opal in her dream’s display case–brought sparkle and beauty to her home and meaning to her life.
Standing still by the kitchen counter, she once again felt a flutter in her midsection. It was her littlest gem, reminding her that her trove was not yet complete. If he arrived on schedule, she would have an emerald—like her own birthstone—to add to her collection. A nice array of jewels to be sure.
Then she remembered the crown of five jewels on the window in her dream. Could it mean…? Oh my! she thought. I’m not sure I’d be up for a fifth jewel! Unless…it was a pretty purple amethyst. That might be nice…
The back door opened and a burst of cold December air blew in behind her husband.
“What are you smiling about?” Harold asked as he entered the kitchen.
“Was I smiling?” Ellie said, turning toward the oven and reaching for her oven mitts. “I guess I was just daydreaming.” She pulled the Tastee Hot Dish from the oven.
“Mmm…smells good!” Harold said, putting his hands around her waist and pressing his cold cheek against her warm one.
“Ooh.. brrr!” Ellie said, laughing and playfully pushing him away. “Go wash up, you. Supper’s ready!”
(Yes, that’s me! Circa December 1964)
(This story was originally published on 5/13/23, at lindahanstra.substack.com.)