#Filene's Basement

[thebreakfastgenie]

One time I went so far down the youtube rabbit hole I started watching Christie Brinkley videos and I'm honestly so fond of the interview from 1985 when she was promoting her fashion line that took place in the Filene's basement.

[iwait4youalexg]

I think my ‘style’ is very influenced by the fact that when I was a kid watching women shop at Filenes Basement and Liz Claiborne and watching my mom buy lipstick from MAC and reading Confessions of a Shopaholic and just basking in all the Fashion Girl media of the early 2000s I had a very specific image of what womanhood would look like when I finally came of age…and then I did come of age in the era of athleisure and $90 leggings as status symbols I knew that was very much Not Me but the only image I had was the one of my childhood. So fast forward to me at 26 I own far more Ann Taylor than anyone my age should and Madewell is my like dream store and I’m obsessed with vintage coach bags and finding secondhand clothes that will me me look straight out of a movie from the late 90s and I am often just slightly overdressed and a little too mature looking but I LOVE IT

[yellowstonewolves-main]

“The answer, then, to the problematic of difference cannot be, as some have argued, that gender does not exist or that race is an empty category. Such arguments throw the body out with the murky bath water. But, as black Barbie and Shani also demonstrate, the body will not be so easily disposed of. If we pull the plug on gender, if we drain race of any meaning, we are still left with the material facts and fictions of the body — with the different ifs, ands, and butts of different bodies. It is easy enough to theorize difference in the abstract, to posit “the body” in one discourse or another. But in the face of real bodies, ease quickly expands into complexity, To put the question in disquiectingly personal terms: from the ivory towers of the academy I can criticize the racist fictions inscribed in Shani’s false bottom from now until retirement, but shopping for jeans in Filene’s Basement, how amIto escape the physical fact of my own steatopygic hips? Do the facts of my own body leave me hoisted not on my own petard, perhaps, but on my own haunches?

We need to theorize race and gender not as meaningless but as meaningful as sites of difference, filled with constructed meanings that are in need of constant decoding and interrogation. Such analysis may not finally free us of the ubiquitous body-biology bind or release us from the quagmire of racism and sexism but it may be at once the most and the least we do to reclaim difference from the moulds of mass production and the casts of dominant ture.

Yet, if the process of deconstruction also constructs, tearing Barbie down runs the riskof building Barbie up — of reifying difference in much the same way that commodity culture does. Rather than representing a critical kiss of death, readings that treat Barbie as a real threat to womankind — a harbinger of eating and shopping disorders — actually breathe life into the doll's plastic form. This is not to say that Barbie can simply be reduced to a piece of plastic. It is to say that hazard lies less in buying Barbie than in buying into Barbie, internalizing the larger mythologies of gender and race that make possible both the “like me” of Barbie and its critique, So, if this is a cautionary tale, the final watchword for consumers and ctitics alike must be not only caveat emptor but also caveat lector; let the buyer and the reader beware”

-Ann Ducille, BLACK BARBIE AND THE DEEP PLAY OF DIFFERENCE

(I am not Ann Ducille, this is a quote from her work)

This essay is finally topical and so I’m gonna post a little exerpt. Maybe its because I don’t read enough theory but this essay has been so formative to the way that I think about race and gender, and it’s also so funny and cool. I’m going to link a free copy! There’s a lot of great stuff in there!

[littleharpethcrossfit]

Saturday, 18 November, 2023.

Classes at 0730 and at 0930.

It was 50 to 55 degrees but sunny. This was more like November weather.

Warmup

4 Rounds

15 Horizontal Situps on GHD

Only about 25% of athletes did these, and as Sandy pointed out, they were all girls.

Strength

Deadlifts: 2 Reps EMOM X 12 Minutes

Begin at 50% and progressively increase weight.

Last 3 sets of 2 reps should all be 85-95%.

Robert/Ed=325 Larry/Dyer=275 Tom/Timmy=225 Coach/Rodney/Warren A=215 Jon=175 Linda=135 Kayla/Sandy/Cheri/Alicia=125 SC=85 Sabrina=75 Cherrita/Average Dave/Big Lew and a bunch of others=no post

WOD

6 Rounds

15 Pushups

10 Pullups

5 Power Cleans (185/135/85)

ONE TIME, ANYTIME ON THE CLOCK

RUN ARBORETUM LOOP / ROW-SKI 2000 / BIKE 4000.

SCORE: Elapsed Time to Completion of all work.

Larry=18:31* Robert=19:04* Ed=21:41 Jon=22:13 Rodney=22:22 Timmy=22:25* SC=25:00 Sabrina=25:10 Tom=25:18 Warren A=25:21 Linda=25:56 Coach=26:45 Kayla/Sandy/Alicia=31:03 Dyer/Cheri/Cherrita/Lew=PJ

Notes:

I don't know where everyone was this morning, but I know they weren't here.

One thing they missed by not being here was their 1st pick of Coach Butler's Christmas Present of LHCF swag. Some things were very limited as our Supplier-Santa is super generous but his elves have supply chain problems. The very colorful LHCF stocking caps are GONE, as are the green T-shirts with the pocket for cigarettes, plus almost all of the LHCF MEN'S shorts. The Girls got zero. The attractive 1/4 zip-up long sleeved jersey's come in 3 or 4 colors and there are some Large, and XXL's, but Small's and Medium's and XL's are almost gone. The management is trying to save the last Small for Faith (The Kid). It kinda looks like Santa thought the girls were naughty and not nice.

If you want to see my analogy of Coach Butler's 1st Day Of Swag, look up YOUTUBE "Brides descend on gown sale at Filene's Basement".

Sunday at 0730 and again at 1 PM.

[springbreak1984]

[utilitycaster]

Did not know Will Friedle was a New Englander until this moment

[nickdewolfarchive]

boston, massachusetts 1974

filene's basement

photograph by nick dewolf https://www.flickr.com/photos/dboo/26531417814

[thebreakfastgenie]

In the Filene's basement interview Christie Brinkley says she wishes her legs were longer and it does very much come across as making up an insecurity to be relatable but I'm also like. well. marrying man several inches shorter than you is One Way to handle that.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Priceless image!  Thank you, Jon Stewart.  :: [Rich Brodsky]

* * * * 

“1. Society needs laws. While anarchy can often turn a humdrum weekend into something unforgettable, eventually the mob must be kept from stealing the conch and killing Piggy. And while it would be nice if that "something" was simple human decency, anybody who has witnessed the "50% Off Wedding Dress Sale" at Filene's Basement knows we need a backup plan—preferably in writing. On the other hand, too many laws can result in outright tyranny, particularly if one of those laws is "Kneel before Zod." Somewhere between these two extremes lies the legislative sweet-spot that produces just the right amount of laws for a well-adjusted society—more than zero, less than fascism.”

― Jon Stewart, America (The Book): A Citizen's Guide to Democracy Inaction

[fashionsfromhistory]

Poodle Skirt

Filene’s

1950-1956

Sybil Michelson's cousin was an Assistant Buyer for Filene's Basement. When she came across this skirt she bought it for her and the donor wore it to her "Sweet Sixteen" birthday party in December, 1956.

Historic New England

[myeyesarebrighter]

Don’t mind me. Just started sobbing while putting on socks because I was overcome with sadness for my sister. She never had matching socks, even as a kid. When I worked at Filene’s basement after college, she would come to visit and I used to bring her in on clearance weeks to buy her like 100 pairs of socks... with hopes she’d keep two matching. She never did but we did have fun buying all those socks. 😂

[utilitycaster]

would like to give this week's obscure reference to Liam, for bringing up Filene's Basement

[nickdewolfarchive]

boston, massachusetts 1974

filene's basement

photograph by nick dewolf https://www.flickr.com/photos/dboo/26531417494

[bergdorfprincess]

Barneys declaring bankruptcy has me reminiscing about all my long-time faves that have closed over the years...Loehmanns (such amazing deals!), Filene’s Basement (where I found the most amazing Dolce coat for $400), Henri Bendel....I even miss the big Toys ‘R’ Us in Times Square (the Barbie house! The Ferris wheel!) 😓🥺 So many iconic NYC institutions closing and so many shutterings of retail stores...makes me wonder what’s in store for us in the future (pun intended). 💖 (at Manhattan, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/B01HcgLpCKs/?igshid=qjj0dz311au6

[justanotherzosofangirl]

Hey, Hey, Mama—Jimmy Page Smut

Summary: You and Jimmy are expecting your first child. Although he won’t admit it, Jimmy is rather aroused by your body during this time. And after a hot and heavy night at the Madison Square Garden, his feelings get the best of him as he shows you how proud he is to call you “Mama”.

Hey guys! Here it is, my very first fanfiction/smut; of course it’s about Jimmy! I’m from the Massachusetts area myself, so that’s where I made the reader from (selfish of me I apologize). Since this one is for all my fellow Zoso groupies, I want you to imagine the reader coming where YOU’RE from! Enjoy!

Warnings: unprotected pregnancy sex. Reader is a little more than five-six months along at this point.

“Don’t worry, little one. He’ll be here soon.”

You sighed as you rested your hand on your stomach. Your little girl was extra fussy tonight, kicking you not harshly but frequently; you enjoyed it but wished a certain someone could enjoy it with you.

——————————————————

You smiled as you thought of your love story with your husband: it began at the Boston Tea Party back in ‘69 (ironically enough, you chuckled). You were originally from the Massachusetts area, working as a salesgirl at Filene’s Basement in Downtown Crossing. After you punched out for the day, you and your girlfriends headed down to The Raven to see this new band called Led Zeppelin. You had always been a lover of good music, and finding new bands was always exciting.

But this band was something else.

Their lyrics were filled with passion, their melodies entrancing. You didn’t feel like you were listening to them; you felt like you were experiencing them, being carried into a world of intimacy and pleasure.

Every girl in the crowd was gushing over the lead singer, Robert Plant. With his long golden hair,tender voice and fluid dance moves, he was obviously a masterpiece.

You, on the other hand, found yourself mesmerized by the tall, dark and handsome gentleman on the lead guitar. His hair was as long as Robert’s but as black as the midnight sky. He looked so committed to hitting every note perfectly, and on the rare occasion he looked up at the crowd, he would flash a tiny smile that was enough to make you blush. When the show was over you caught his eye and, feeling bold, you blew him a kiss.

Your friends decided to sneak out back to meet the players, and much to your delight you caught the guitarist just as he was packing up. You drew in a deep breath and tapped his shoulder. He turned around with a small grin, giving you his full attention.

“I just wanna say you were incredible tonight,” you gushed. “You looked amazing.”

The guitarist smiled as he picked up your hand and kissed it. His lips were so soft; you had to stop yourself from imagining how they would feel against yours.

“Thank you darling,” he replied in a gossamer British accent; it sounded so exotic compared to your rough Boston accent. “Allow me to properly introduce myself. I’m Jimmy Page.”

“Y/F/N Y/L/N,” you said with a grin. As he locked his emerald green eyes with your deep Y/E/C ones, you could tell he felt the same sparks you did.

———————————————————

You and Jimmy became a couple pretty quickly; throughout the rest of Zeppelin’s tour that year, you followed them as much as you could, growing closer and closer all the time.

Unfortunately when it was time to return to England, You both came to the conclusion that you simply couldn’t leave each other. Against both of your parents wishes you eloped; it was the most outrageous thing you had ever done, and the one thing in your life you never regretted.

——————————————————––

A gentle knock on the doorframe jolted you back to the present. You looked up from your stomach to see your husband in all of his glory, donning that outfit you helped him pick out before the show: a black velvet blazer embroidered with poppies, big ones on the front and back and small ones coating the sleeves; no shirt, just a small silver pendant with a blue stone in the center hanging ‘round his neck and resting in that small tuft of chest hair you loved playing with; and black jeans sprinkled with silver studs, silver stars and moons up and down the left leg, a multicolored dragon on the right.

To put it bluntly, he looked exquisite.

You flashed him a smile. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Jimmy chuckled warmly as he made his way over to the queen-sized bed you were lounging on. “And how are you this evening,my love?” He asked.

“Tired,” you sighed. “I met up with some old friends for lunch. We wanted to do some shopping on fifth, but I was feeling too hot. Needed a cold shower and a nap.”

“And do you feel better?” Jimmy was lying next to you on the bed now, wrapping one arm around your shoulder and resting his other hand on your stomach.

You took the hand that was draped on your shoulder and brought it to your lips, kissing his calloused fingertips one by one. “Now that you’re here, much better.”

Jimmy’s hand moved around your belly, tracing circles along it before reaching over and kissing it passionately through the sheer black fabric of your nightgown.

“The feeling is more than mutual, darling,” he murmured through kisses up your chest and finally on your lips. “All I could think about tonight was your ravishing looks.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at this. “Ravishing looks! Jimmy, I’m not skinny anymore, my ankles are swollen, and I’m getting acne around my chin. I’m hardly —“

He cut you short with a finger to your lips. You realized he had moved so that he was propped above you on his arms and legs, his face mere inches from yours. He removed the finger that was placed on your lips and kissed you so deeply you let out a moan you hadn’t heard yourself make in a long time.

“You are absolutely divine, Y/F/N,” Jimmy whispered. “I can’t even describe what you do to me these days.”

You cup your hands around his well-sculpted face and look him deep in the eyes. “Show me then.”

With a mischievous smirk, Jimmy planted his lips firmly on yours. You moved your hands up from his shoulders to the back of his head, working your fingers through his thick, dark curls.

You can tell he’s eager when he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, lacing it with your own as his rough yet gentle hands traced the curves along your body slowly.

When Jimmy’s hands reached the bottom of your nightgown, he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against your own. “Sit up, and lift your arms up,”he murmured. You did as you were told, and starting from the bottom, Jimmy removed your nightgown and tossed it on the floor. He paused for a few moments, admiring your nude, fertile body. He bit his lip, eyeing you up and down.

You looked back at him with the same amount of desire. “Your turn,” you said as you crawled up to him and helped him out of his jacket. Once it was off, he stood up off the bed and looked down at you with the utmost desire.

You got up on your knees and enveloped your short arms around his torso, trailing kisses from the top of his chest to the bottom of his slightly-toned stomach.

Your quick and nimble fingers undid the button on his black jeans, then you carefully undid the zipper with one hand as you placed your other hand underneath his boxers. You lowered his jeans slowly to the ground and carefully brought your other hand up to his now fully-hard member. You gently kissed his tip before taking all of him in your mouth.

With his eyes closed and his head tilted back, Jimmy let out a deep groan as you continued to suck him off. He brought his hands to your hair and pulled it up into a makeshift ponytail, thrusting his hips against your lips so you could take as much of him as possible.

“Christ, Y/F/N,” Jimmy gasped as he felt himself getting closer to his climax. He suddenly released in your mouth; you quickly drank his sweet and salty juice and wiped your lips as he carefully pulled you up into his arms.

“I’m going to be gentle this time, darling,” he whispered hotly into your ear. “I’m not about to hurt you or our angel.”

You kissed him sweetly on the lips, beyond aroused at how much he cared for you. With gentle hands, Jimmy lowered you back onto the mattress and positioned himself on top of you. He looked down at you with those bewitching green eyes and slowly lowered his head to plant warm, wet kisses down your neck. He then moved on to your breasts, which he gently rubbed before giving each one a soft peck. His hands rubbed the sides of your belly, kissing the area just above your navel. All the while you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your damn near the breaking point.

“Jimmy,” you gasped. “I’m ready for you.”

Jimmy smiled at you brought his face to rest in the crook of your neck. “Very well,” he chuckled.

Finally, he slowly pushed himself into you, making you gasp with delight. It had been so long since you and Jimmy made love, and it was long overdue. His thrusts were soft and rhythmic, almost as if his body was playing a lullaby for you and your baby. Your hips moved in tandem with his, your hands gripping onto his back for support.

Jimmy struck your sweet spot at just the right speed, your walls closing around his cock tighter and tighter with each movement.

“Babe,” you yelled between gasps. “I’m close, so close.”

“Come for me, Y/F/N,” Jimmy said with groan.

With one final thrust, Jimmy had you screaming out his name as he followed shortly thereafter, releasing himself inside of you with a slew of curses.

He pulled himself out and laid down next to you, the two of you panting as you caught your breath.

“Jesus,” you gasped. “That was much needed.”

Jimmy looked over at you with that cheeky grin you’d grown to love. “I’ve been wanting to make love to you again ever since you started showing, Y/F/N. You know I’ve been aroused by you ever since we met, and now you’re as beautiful as you’ve ever been.”

You pulled him over for a kiss, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. “It’s you who makes me feel beautiful Jimmy, every day. I love you so much.”

“As I love you,” Jimmy murmured before locking lips with you.

You both turned over on your sides, Jimmy holding you close to him with his head resting above yours and his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

You fell asleep with a smile on your face, beyond thankful you had a man who would never let go.

———————————————————————

Taglist: @sailawaysweetsasster @tremble-and-shake

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Imagine Jamie giving Brianna a birthday present for the first time in his life.

Sometimes the questions that Jamie asked Claire made her world tilt.  He would draw her handsclose to his chest. Warm fingers held cooler fingers over his heart.  His questions would electrify her love forhim while simultaneously make her heart ache for each moments that he had lost withBrianna.

After an ellipses of silence, in which she wouldcollect her thoughts and words, she spilled it all onto a quiet canvas.  Sometimes the memories were watery, requiring some measure of artistic license to construct a moment worth telling.  Still other memories were so vivid in her mind thatevery insignificant detail poured from her, splashing color, bold andintentional.

He wanted to know about their celebrations – the happiestmoments.

They covered Christmas. Presents, fat primary-colored bulbs, trees, and sweets.  She explained Thanksgiving. Turkey and tart cranberries, the parade with its balloons and bands.  First days of school and walks to the schoolbus stop. Tears streaking down cheeks and a pink backpack.  Summer camp. Mosquito bites, skinned knees, and bruisedelbows.

And then birthdays.  

Jamie wanted to know about Brianna’s birthdays and how theycelebrated.

Claire breathed an entire two decades’ worth of informationinto him, hands absorbing the pounding of his ascending heartbeat.  Her fingers heaved under the rise and fall ofhis chest as his breathing quickened and slowed, deepening and then goingshallow.

Birthdays in Boston were always the same, she explained.

No matter how late her shift at the hospital ended, she alwaysmanaged to clear the morning of Brianna’s birthday for breakfast and the afternoon for some sort of special trip.  Claire made pancakes and squeezed oranges into afrothy, pulpy juice.  She brought thespread to Brianna’s room on a tray.

“When she was really little, she would pretend to be asleep whenI came into the room. Oh, Lord, Jamie… she was so sweet. She would pretend towake up with this theatrical yawn…. Like she was up for an Oscar–”

“Say again?” he asked. 

Claire could tell, even in the darkness of their bedroom, that his brows werefurrowed.  The touch of whisky on theirbreath made her more flippant with her words – sometimes she avoided sayingthings about her time (mostly nouns, things he had never seen). She kept herself from telling him just so he would not feel like he was free floatingin her stories. She wanted to ground him in the feeling of missing out, not to sethim further adrift. But with alcohol in her bloodstream, his own touch heavywith intoxication, she was loose with her words.

“It’s a sort of… well, I guess… a prize for acting… theAcademy gives out–”

“Like a university academy?”

Claire sighed gently, arching forward and pressing her lipsto his forehead. Patience. “No, love.Not academia. Like… a group of important people who make films. You know… movies. I told you about–”

“Yes, Claire,” he interrupted. “I ken verra well by now what a movie is.”  

He paused for a long moment and only spokewhen it was clear that Claire would not fill the silence. 

“Anyway… Brianna and her theatrical yawn.”

“Yes, well, uh… I would sing to her and we would eat pancakeswith plates resting on our thighs.”

Jamie had always been the storyteller in their relationship –the vocabulary, the voices, the broad gestures, the openness as his entire bodygot into it, the facial expressions, the ability to captivate and suck everyonein a twenty-foot circumference into his gravitational pull.

But since being back, Claire had, out of the necessity ofsharing everything, grown into moreof a storyteller.

She wanted him not just to hear it and remember it, but to see it and have something imprinted in his mind.  So she shared the details of ruffled yellow curtains in Brianna’s bedroom, her pajamas with feet, the presents with bright paper and intricate plastic bowsaffixed with tape, and syrup-sticky fat fingers on a mother’s neck.

“I always had a plan, Jamie. Like… the zoo, a park, the movies, the equestrian center.” For a moment she was taken back, thinking of knee-high boots, a shiny mahogany horse with a jet-black mane. "She was such a beautiful rider – that longrope of hair peeking out of the small helmet, biting down on her lip like shedoes now. Watch her tomorrow, you’ll see–”

“I ken what ye’re saying,” he said, his voice a littleshort. “About her lip. She chews on it when she’s thinking.”

There were some things Jamie had learned about Brianna since shecame to the Ridge, and he was always quick to point them out to Claire. He needed toshow that he knew their daughter,too.  It was an almost instinct in him toclarify that he was watching, to makeit apparent that he knew things.

“Yes, well, she’s done that for as long as I can remember.”

Jamie sighed, drawing her hands up to his mouth and pressinghis lips over her fingertips.  “More…tell me more, Sassenach. I to ken everything.”

His plea brought tears to the corners of her eyes.  There were not enough lifetimes for her totell him everything, but she couldcomply with this simple request to the very best of her ability.  

And soshe did.

Claire explained that in her pre-teen years Brianna started to think that birthdays were “cheesy.” Claire told Jamie how she would pretend to think about whether Briannashould be allowed to play hooky from school (the answer was always “yes”).  Making a face to show him how she feignedsurprise when Brianna would shriek “it’s my birthday, mama!” brought such a beautiful laugh from Jamie’s mouth that she could not help but to smile. 

His laughter died when he vocalized a question: what role he would have played in this lifethat occurred without him?

After a moment, a solemnity, he urged her on. 

“It was like she thought I would have a random Tuesday orWednesday off of work… like I did not have a plan to celebrate.  God, Jamie. It was precious.” Claire lost herself in the memory for a moment – tryingto put words to it to help him understand – the rush of the pancakes, thewarmth of golden sunlight through sheer pink curtains, the softness of theirdaughter’s cheeks under a damp napkin as Claire wiped away syrup.  

“She had this little birthday crown with fake jewels.  I put it on her bedside table.  When Bree woke up she would go absolutely mad.  She would scream until she woke the wholehouse.  It was like she thought it hadbeen put there by a birthday fairy–”

“Hmph. Verra Scottish of her.  Faeries.”

Claire smiled and pulled their hands towards her face,pressing her lips to his work-worn palms. Left,then right.

Claire did not disclose that as Brianna got older, theentire thing took on a little less whimsy. Breakfast at the kitchen table instead of in bed. Crown dispatched to amusty box in the basement with remnants of other childhood memories.  She kept to herself that the show became less elaborate as Briannabegan to express preference for just spending her day alone.  (Shopping, manicures,sitting on the couch, seeing movies with friends after school.)

“And what of… him?”

“What about him?” Claire asked, her voice like a blade.Jamie rarely asked of Frank – knowing that it bothered Claire.  

“The man was her father, Claire.  Dinna pretend as if he was no’ her da.”

Frank also had a routine for her Brianna’s birthdays.  He would show up after work and pile gifts infront of her – hastily-packaged things wrapped in the college newspaper.  One present for each year of Brianna’s life.Records and candy, cash and roller skates, beautiful silk scarves and the keysto a car that they could not afford and had never discussed purchasing forher.  

Claire had a physical reaction to Frank – to his pile ofpresents, to the fact that while Brianna grew weary of Claire’s birthdayroutine, she never tired of hisbirthday attentions.

“I don’t know, Jamie. There were presents.  He lovedher.  What do you want me to tell you?”

That was apparently enough because she felt him shrug, thequilt over them shifting as he moved closer to her.

Claire told him about one of her last days in Boston before coming back through the stones. They hada makeshift birthday celebration.   They ate pancakes – Claire mostly pushing hersaround on her plate in a flood of syrup.  They wandered Filene’s, touching expensivesilk scarves, sniffing imported fragrance on little paper strips, lettingthe women at the cosmetics counter talk them into shades of lipstick they wouldnever deign to wear on anything other than a special occasion.  Claire left the lipstick in Brianna’scosmetics case when she went back through the stones.  They tried on jeans and sweaters that Clairewould never have an occasion to wear. 

Claire overspent, a function of guilt.

Brianna just accepted, a function of the same.

That evening, Brianna unwrapped presents while they sat cross-legged onthe floor.   Claire hadjokingly wrapped the deed to the house and various financial miscellany in brightpink and green wrapping paper. Brianna had offered only a short smile and asigh, setting the documents aside.

Brianna had indulged her mother in this final birthday –blowing out candles, gushing over a record (oneshe already owned), kissing her mama on thecheek and whispering “thank you”after they saw a movie.

Telling him these things, Claire felt his ache – felt it in her ribs, in herlungs. It radiated off him; it was contagious. She wanted to burst out withwords and touches to fix it, but she couldn’t. So she just nestled closer.  Jamiefell silent, his body settling flush to his wife.  He yearned for the nearness of her. Theirhands still twined together and resting between them, they fell asleep.

Brianna did not know what to expect on her first birthday onthe Ridge.  She wondered, in an absentkind of way, whether her birthday would even be a passing concern in theirhighly-regimented life in this place. After all, there were far more important things to worry about out here– day-to-day survival, planning for tomorrow. It was hardly notable that she had a birthday. It was just one day in a series of threehundred and sixty-five days.

She smelled pancakes when she woke.  Her body warm and slow, protesting atthe prospect of rising into the cold room. Blinking, she let the familiarity of the scent wash over and her heart leapt a little.  She had not expected the pancakes, but it wasclear from the sweet, bready aroma, that Claire was attempting them on theRidge. She gave her body a quick wipe down with a rag and lukewarm water beforedressing, arranging her hair in a thick braid that wrapped around her hairline.

“The birthday girl!” Claire sang when she heardfootsteps.  The fact that her mama could identify her footfall from the others who lived at the Ridge made her smile.  Claire was crouched infront of the fireplace, a wooden utensil working at the edges of a pancakecooking on cast iron over a low, almost-extinguished fire.

“Thanks, mama.” Brianna cleared her throat; her voice was stiff from a night of disuse.

“I’m going to give you a birthday kiss as soon as I finishup with this – cooking these without the benefit of a regulated flame… well…the animals will have a charred treat later.”

Brianna mused momentarily that her smile might crack herentire face apart.

When Jamie joined them, he kissed his daughter on the top ofher head.  “Happy birthday,Brianna.”  

Brianna’s heart skipped a little at the phrase, her name stillunusual and startling in his accent. It rebounded as an echo in her ears.  “Thanks, Da. Another year.”

“Och, aye, weel, when ye get to my age ye’re going torealize each year’s a blessing, lass.”  

Jamie settled in the chair next to her, reaching for a chunkof the salty ham that Claire had fried until the skin blistered.  Claire could tell that he had an absolute warin his head as they settled in to their first birthday breakfast together as a completefamily.

The pancakes were similar to her memories, but they drenched with honey and tart autumn berries instead of syrup and butter. Fresh, frothy milk stood in for the juice. And it was perfect.

Table cleared and morning chores done, aquiet Sunday unfolded like many other quiet Sundays. With a kiss, fingers lingering behind Claire’s ear, Jamie excusedhimself and slipped out of the house. “Dinna fash,” he had whispered when hermouth began to quirk with a question.

He returned and just watched them through the window. 

Theywere his whole life.  Bree was fiery andanimated, hands moving and eyes rolling. Claire laughed, her fingers working across the spine of the book shewas reading.  

When he entered, arms behind his back, he was suddenlynervous. He had been to war twice.  Hehad lived in a hell on earth, watching men starve and be taken by all manner ofdisease.  He had lost the love of hislife and been found again by her.  He hadchildren stripped from him – at birth, by circumstance, through time.  

And yet this moment – a simple one that she had shared before with another man she called “daddy” – was almost too much forhim.

“I’ve got somethin’ for ye, Brianna,” he started. The undercurrent quaking in his voice made Claire’s ears prick up.  She set her book side and leaned forward to watchhim.  Brianna turned on the floor and Jamie knelt in front of her, bringing the most beautiful bow Claire had ever seen from behind his back.

It was long and gracefully arced with striated tones wherethe tree’s rings had been sliced by a knife to carve it and mold it into theperfect curve.  Rawhide was drawn tight betweeneach end.

Jamie plucked the string with fingertips and it sang with strengthas it snapped back between the handholds. The sound reverberated with thepromise that it would kill for its owner, that the power it harnessed couldprotect and provide.

“Did you make this, Da?” The astonishment in Brianna’s voice wassomething that Claire had not heard in years – probably since before she was ateenager.

 It was pure wonderment at the gift.  

“Och, aye.  I ken it’sno’ much, but–”

“It’s beautiful.”  

She was all wide eyes, parted lips, mouth upturned at thecorners.  She accepted the bow from himas he held it extended it to her.  He slipped a leatherbag from his shoulder and removed a handful of arrows – obviously handmade but sturdy,long, and imposing with a pheasant fletching.

Jamie pressed a thumb on the tip of the arrow.  A drop of red bloomed into a globe on the tip andhe brought it to his lips.  

“Be careful, these’requite sharp.”

Resting the bow against her shoulder, Brianna took thearrow, turning it over and over in her hand, running her finger tips reverentlyalong the dusky feathers.

“I’ve done a little practicing with it, just to make sure it’s a braw weapon…”  Jamie’s voice trailed off, unableto take his eyes from his daughter’s face.

“Yeah?” Brianna asked, turning her attention to the bow againand laying the arrow across it, just to see its geometry.  “And…?”

“Och, weel, ye’ll have no problem killin’ with it.” Helaughed when her face broke with a full grin. 

“Da… it’s beautiful.” She set the bow aside and leaned forward on her knees, winding her armsaround his shoulders.  “I’ve not donemuch bow hunting, but I cannot wait.  Do you have one? Will you show me?”

“I’ve had one for a while, lass,” he said, absorbing thewarmth of her embrace as long as she would allow him the moment. The moment imprinted itself on him - the smell of her hair, the feeling of her long thin arms, the swell of pride in his gut for creating a moment.

“Can we go out and do a little hunting then?”

Exhaling deeply, feeling like he knew at least one more thing firsthand, henodded.  “Of course, lass.”