Betty Grable Pin Up Girl

Drum Drummond said it was true. War was definitely Hell. But as far as he was concerned, two heavenly angels had shown up in that hell in the form of pin-up girls named Rita Hayworth and Betty Grable. And so, when his granddaughter was born, and everyone else was surprised the baby wasn’t a boy, he suggested they name her Grable. It was either that or one of the boys’ names they had been planning on. Grable’s mom, Celia, was still coming to grips with the facts. One: she had a baby. Two: the baby’s daddy was absent. So the name didn’t seem all that important. Not when compared against those two things.

Grable had chocolate fuzz for hair and large blue eyes ringed with dark lashes. Her mouth suggested a bow, and her nose was small and straight. Once her waking hours started equaling her sleeping hours, and she began interacting with those around her, she would reward them with a focused gaze that showed a sober dignity. Or when it was least expected, she would surprise them with a grin that used her whole face, squinting her eyes and showing her toothless gums and pink tongue.
Grable seldom cried, but when she did, her cry was a wild crescendo. The sound filled up the room, escaping into the rest of the house and causing everyone there to run to her aid.Celia would rush to warm a bottle, Grandma Dinah would check Grable’s diaper to see if it needed changing or if a pin was sticking Grable’s tender skin. Drum would play peek-a-boo to try and distract Grable from whatever it was that was upsetting her. But it seemed that Grable was in charge of her own emotions, for none of these remedies could guarantee that she would quiet. It was only when she had deposited the thumb of her left hand in her mouth, that she was able to compose herself and accept her family’s ministrations.
This is my entry in this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge using the third definition of wild.
Made with real cheese for a melt-in-your-mouth flavor you can’t resist.

About paulajwray

I am a writer and I live in the Rocky Mountains of southwest Colorado with my husband and a balding black cat. I write humor, flash fiction, creative non-fiction, inspirational essays, and poetry. When I'm not writing, making lists, or forcing a family member to listen to something I've written, I'm reading, gardening, or laughing with my friends. I also, occasionally, sit and stare.
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13 Responses to Grable

  1. Annabelle says:

    Grable sounds like trouble in the making! She is clearly going to grow up into quite a person.

  2. Diane Turner says:

    Love this!

  3. ” a wild crescendo.” That describes perfectly the way a baby’s wails increase in pitch!

  4. jannatwrites says:

    I liked the ‘wild crescendo’, too. This baby sounds like a handful-and-a-half! Good thing mama has help 🙂

    • Paula J says:

      I remember the time my mother tried to help my toddler daughter move her high chair. Jen looked at my mom and said, “I do my own.” Sometimes, there just ain’t no help.

  5. It sounds like she is a diva in the making.
    Thanks for linking up. Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for the new prompt.

  6. Paula J says:

    Thanks for this place to present our wares.

  7. Papparaci says:

    I thought this beautiful and extremely vivid. I can see the little girl sitting in her mothers arms. Great work.

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