Mrs. Peabody

I had a friend named Mrs. Peabody.
What a pleasant memory.
When she got all dressed up,
she was quite a sight to see.

Wisps of golden hair
strayed from beneath
her wide brimmed hat
which always sat askew.
She wore high healed shoes
and gaudy beads too.

She was full of giggles
and squeals
and favor chocolate
with her meals.

Often she would visit me.
We would slowly sip our tea,
pretend that we
were anything we aimed to be.

Conversation was always gay and silly,
and darted willy-nilly
from this subject to that
from sunbeams in the sky
to whiskers on the cat.

Times have changed,
years gone by.
But memories do not die.
Mrs. Peabody will always be
in the heart of
my daughter and me.

Elaine J.Roark
May 14,1988

The Return of Mrs. Peabody

When my daughter was a little girl she would get all dressed up in my high healed shoes, a very oversized black sequined dress, strings and string of gaudy beads, and a pair of dangling ear-rings. Plopped carelessly atop her golden hair, she wore an old hat whose one remaining flower draped forlornly to one side. She always carried an old purse so filled with girlish treasures that it dragged on the floor beside her.

Thus attired she would leave the house by the side door, clomp gleefully up the front steps, and ring the doorbell. when I opened the door she would hold on to her hat as she tippeed her head back to turn her smling face to greet me, and say most cheerfully “Hello, I'm your friend, Mrs. Peabody.” I never knew, and my daughter does remember where she first heard that name, but once she adopted it the adorable character came to life.

My reply was always the same. “Mrs. Peabody, won't you please come in and join me for tea.” I would fill the tiny cups of her toy tea set with milk or juice and bring out a plate of cookies. We would talk about all sorts of things and giggle a lot. When all the cookies were eaten, Mrs. Peabody would say that she must be going now. I would see her graciously to the front door. She would clomp down the stairs and around to the side door. There she would remove Mrs. Peabody's clothing and be transformed back into my sweet golden haired daughter again.

When my daughter entered elementary school, Mrs. Peabody's visits ceased. Sadly I relinquished her to the land of childhood make-believe, but I always missed the visits.

Years later when my daughter had graduated from college and was preparing to enter graduate studies the following spring, she spent six months with us in Japan where my husband was doing research for a study sabbbatical leave from the university where he teaches.

When Fall arrived, I began to feel nostalgic and just a bit home-sick. Then one sunny morning when I was upstairs working in the study and my daughter was downstairs in the kitchen, the telephone intercom rang and I was greated with those old familiar words, “Hello, this is your friend, Mrs. Peabody. Come down and join me for tea.”

Tears began to flow as I choked back the lump in my throat to reply, “Mrs Peabody! It's been so long since I've heard from you.” What a glorious reunion we had! There were giggles, tears, a lot of hugging, and the poem on the page above began to germinate.

This summer my daughter had a baby girl and hope was born in my heart that in the near future, Mrs. Peabody will enter my life again. Perhaps her name will be changed, but as long as there are little girls, Mrs. Peabody will live.