It was the night of the Bean Supper at the Catholic Church, one of the social highlights of the summer in our small town. We weren’t Catholic but my mother’s best friend, Mrs Scott, who was Catholic, had invited my mother and me to go to the Bean Supper with her and her daughter Susan who was about my age. I was 5 years old and was excited to be going out to dinner with just my mother. My father was staying home with my baby sister.
My mother had borrowed a sewing machine from Mrs Garrett across the street and had spent the week sewing a new dress for me to wear for the occasion. Mrs Garrett, who was also not Catholic, was not going to the Bean Supper but she was happy to lend my mother her sewing machine, anyway. After my mother finished dressing me in my new dress and new white socks, she sent me downstairs to wait for her. With “Don’t go outside” following me down the stairs, I went straight through the kitchen to the back door and out onto the back porch to look over to the yard next door.
My best friend, Kelly Kilborn, lived next door and I knew that he was not going to the Bean Supper. I was fizzing with excitement that I was going and wanted to show him my new dress. I could see Kelly sitting on his back step and called over to him. But, he didn’t look up. So, I walked down the back steps and over to the fence separating our back yards. I called again but Kelly still didn’t respond. So, I climbed up and hung over the fence and yelled at him, “Look at my new dress!”. Kelly didn’t answer but he stood up and started to walk over to the fence. Just as he got near me, he bent down, picked up a handful of dirt and threw it at me. I jumped back and fell off the fence.
I scraped my leg, my new socks were dirty and my new dress was ripped. I did not go to the Bean Supper at the Catholic Church with my mother that summer. (372 words)