Reflections- V and VIVReflections- V and VI
We had come to the mountains after three weeks of travel. They stabbed mercilessly into the horizon, cutting the sky jaggedly the way across. It was a triumph to have come this far, yet the challenge became more terrifying by the stark site of the earth rising up to meet the heavens and blocking the way of mere mortals.
“How much longer do you think it’ll be?” asked Dora with an undertone of desperation. I did not know.
“Doesn’t matter. We only have one direction to go: forward.” We were sunburnt, low on food, and weary of the endless walking. The road seemed to go on and on, and on
Reflections- IVIVReflections- IV
A road winds along green fields, glistening like a cut jewel with dew. It winds; around mossy ancient stones, leaping over streams and rivers, dancing around a mirrored lake. Its perfume is the earthy soil and the smiling daffodils and its hat is the cloudy sky. It whispers a sad song of comfort and amplifies and erases loneliness all at once
* * * * *
We had made it no more than a mile from the city limits when Dora broke down under the weight of our situation. I was walking ahead of her, my though
Reflections- IIIIII It is not a secret if it is known by three people.Reflections- III
Dora and I continued in Kilkenny through the winter. Whenever I reminded her of our earlier decision to continue further west, she would find a variety of reasons to stay; she had not been able to save up any money, she had promised Fat Fitzy she would do this or that, and how could we possibly leave a helpless old women when we had become like daughters to her. I began picturing myself leaving in the night and Dora and old Fitzgerald drinking tea happily like mother and daughter, occasionally wondering:
“Whatever happened to that wearisome girl?”
On
Reflections- IIII “A full belly leads to a happy heart”Reflections- II
The rain I remember with fondness from my childhood. I remember it beating against the window as I lay in my warm bed. The grey sky behind it, silvery with gloom bringing a quiet hush to the lane. The hunched figure hurrying on the street, trying to escape the onslaught of water. The pooling on the muddy street, reflecting the silver sky and the dark grey of the clouds. With the rain came the wet chill that penetrated skin and flesh and went straight to the bones, killing babies and the weak. Warm sunny days brought an unusual joy. Cold rainy days provided a common, protected g
by ~mree
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