Miss. Misfit. Molly. McMatchet. The Miss was a label. You hadn’t quite made the grade. It told the world, (her world), that she hadn’t been able to snag a man. Who needed one? Miss Misfit Molly had a roof over her head, food for her belly, the Scryers Club, oh and her truck. What else does a body need?
Truth was many young farmers came calling ‘in the day,’ but Miss Misfit Molly, had the gift. She saw right though those suitors. They wanted the McMatchet Farm, not her. Anyway, what husband in those days, would put up with a wife going off on a full moon and creeping back when the sun rose?
Everyone knew Miss Misfit Molly in Momma’s little town. They heard her boxy old 1940’s something classic black Ford pick up truck coming, long before she arrived…and if a chicken crossed the road, at the exact moment, she would engage her ship-like horn that could be heard in seven counties, so the story went. Now, not too many women were driving in the 1960’s and certainly, if they were, they had a car, not an old pick up truck with a sumptuous cab, classic truck bed and white wall tires.
Ah, but those country folk, they smirked when they saw her coming. They kidded her unmercifully about her mechanical skills. What woman could change the oil, put on tires, fix the engine of a pick up truck? Miss Misfit Molly could….and she would do yours as well, if you could stop laughing long enough to ask her.
Miss Misfit Molly’s passion was the Scryers Club which she had managed to wangle a front row seat, as a child, many years ago. Having a Teflon Brain, she would race home after every meeting and record minute detail of the images on the mirror pool, of who said what, the plans going forward and the results to date.
Then it started happening to her. Miss Misfit Molly started having visions, seeing things, not only in the mirror pool but in a teacup….a suitcase meant, you were going on a trip, a star, you would be honored before your peers, a heart, you would receive a marriage proposal, a black crow, very ominous, get your affairs in order, your days on earth were numbered.
Now the housewives liked to dilly dally in this nonsense, get their tea leaves read but sshh, they did not tell their husbands who would tell them it was all stuff and nonsense. No, they kept it a closely guarded secret, never even telling their mothers or sisters or friends, for fear of being laughed at. Yet Miss Misfit Molly knew and although she never told in life, had legions of ledgers, filled to the brim with the names of clients from the very families who founded this town. However, in death, when her black crow came calling, she was set free and could divulge all.
Oh, to be in that place, at that time as the ledgers opened and the secrets poured out. Kind of put life in perspective….What the world needs is more of the like of Miss Misfit Molly. Yep, those ledgers, like Facebook today, gave more information then we ‘needed to know.’
Still, the shoe was on the other foot. The smirking faces went stone cold serious, because like Momma always tells us, ‘The truth can set you free or bury you,’ as it hovers over you, revealed only in God‘s good time.
Be sure your sins will find you out, one day!!!
