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PIONEER WOMAN
by Debra Bruch
(The Woman enters with a bucket and towels. Her
daughter just died. She addresses the audience.)
She be gone. (Pause.) She's gone. Ya hear
me? (Pause.) Cleaned her up some. Some. Washed her face. Her
feet. Couldn't move her. She be peaceful-like. Can't take off her dress.
Made that dress for her and can't take it off. Can't do it. You do it.
You fix her.
(Pause.) Took me weeks to make that dress.
I 'member every stitch. An' you said -- you said I should stitch on
little butterflies. So I did an' it took me weeks. You 'member them
little butterflies was yer idear? (Pause.) Yer idear an' I did
it. Almost didn't make it, though. Her birthday come up, you 'member?
I stayed up all night that night, just so she'd have it. She surely
loved that dress with them little blue butterflies. I want yer t' take
it off so's I can wash it. She'd like t' be buried in that dress. Take
it off'n her, will ya?
Oh, she did love them little butterflies! She
be chasin' 'em and singin' to 'em. I saw her do that today. She was
chasin' a butterfly when she fell in. (Pause.) My little girl chased
a butterfly today. An' now she be dead. Don't make sense t' me. Don't
make no sense at all. Now she gotta be buried. Yer gotta bury her. Ya
gotta bury her. Ya hear me?
(Pause.) Ya can't, can ya? Our little girl
drowned, an' yer can't do nothin' about it. Ya jist sit there, ya jist
sit there an' say nothin'. Ya do nothin'! Ya never do nothin'! I asked
ya! I asked ya t' make it safe by the water but ya didn't do it! Ya
didn't do it an' now my little girl's dead!
(Pause.) Grievin' . . . grievin' makes
. . . Don't wanna bury you, too. Ya gotta grieve yer own way . . . I
guess.
(Pause.) I'm sorry. Ya ain't got the strength,
do ya? Me either. Maybe . . . maybe that's what the greater power is
for, huh? Sometimes. I feel like there's somethin' there . . . somethin'
here . . . grievin' with us. Somethin' here who wants to be with us
right now. I gotta learn . . . I gotta learn to let it be with us .
. . with me. I gotta learn to let it be . . . to let my little girl
be . . . happy . . . where she is. I gotta really . . . know . . . she
ain't really dead. My little girl's still alive. She just ain't with
us no more. She's with someone else. Someone who loves her.
(Pause.) I guess I gotta take off the dress
an' wash it. I gotta go bury my little girl.
(Exits.)
Copyright 1996 Debra Bruch
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