Day One. Based on Violet

I ran into this old blog post today. For the life of me, I cannot remember whether I wrote this while inspired by Violet, or whether this passage came from the book itself, the way I tagged the original post tell me otherwise… 
I’m currently reading Jazz by Toni Morrison (just started it) and thought about the character Violet, who I find delightfully complex.

If I could paint I would have painted her. In maybe and white-washed earth tones. She was too tired for this side of existence. And she let her aching mind dictate her body what it will. Thin arms held too many babies. Withered fingers wove into the day crisscross patterns meant to support everyone. Everyone. It became her daily agenda. So on this day she awoke before sunlight could yawn over her home. She placed one foot in front of the next, barely trusting herself to keep this organization. Until her left foot took a step backward and she sat down. Her body slumped into the exhaustion her veins kept pumping. She misjudged the place her body chose as safe. It was too late anyway. She rested her body in the middle of Parkson Avenue and decided, her mind decided, no more. With open eyes to greet the world that worked her, she rested. Her skin finally embracing a rose colour in her cheeks.