01.14.12

The Beginning

Posted in Just Me at 9:43 PM by Ann Hornbeck

The Beginning

Rollia stops, his arm resting on the hoe. He looks out over the rows of dirt and prays for a good bounty come the harvest. The rows are neat and even, the black soil rich and hearty. He thinks, “No need to worry; everything finds its place in the universe. God grants us what he knows will be enough.” His knowledge of planting and caring and harvesting is embedded in his genes. He rises and falls with the seasons, like birds to the seeds. “This life is hard, but what more do I need. Nothing except God on my side, my wife in my arms, and my children fed and nurtured. Thank you, Lord for the blessings of this day.” His heart returns gracefully to his childhood, his life in the rolling hills of Germany. He thinks of Sarah Jane, remembering their time together and how hard she worked keeping the family fed and clothed. He breathes in and out, feeling his grief, yet reveling in the fact that he has his eyes on a pretty new girl, one who took a fancy to him, someone who will be a good partner and friend. “Time always seems to correct the past, or if nothing else, it sure lessens the pain.” In the distance, the rain clouds are full, and the rumble of thunder roars across the Appalachian mountains as streaks of lightning explode in the May sky. “Here comes the rain – hallelujah for that!”

Frank sits in his library, the door shut while he waits for his tea and crackers. Mary is in the kitchen preparing dinner and almost forgets that Frank is waiting. “Lord knows I would like to prop up my legs for a moment!” She scurries to the door, knocking quietly and waiting for Frank’s response. He beckons her to enter.  She is glad to see him, but he barely acknowledges her. Frank loves his wife and children, but his stoic German upbringing and his devotion to his work is disappointing at times. But, Mary is patient. Her thoughts navigate back to her life on the farm, the early risings, feeding the chickens, helping with the little ones, the long walk to school. “Oh, how much I loved sitting down in the parlor in the evenings, the sound of gospel music filling the air, her heart glowing with faith and family. Those were good times; hard but good. My, my, how did Mother and Dad ever survive feeding and clothing twelve children?  She giggles to herself thinking, “They definitely enjoyed one another!”  She walks softly out of the library thinking she will sit down at the piano tonight and play some gospel music. “I know Isabelle would love to hear it!”

Isabelle sits alone at the dinner table. She hears the choir practicing below. Tonight’s music seems familiar, so she listens intently as she tries to find the connection. Her foot taps, up and down, up and down, her mind searching for  a point of reference. “I must call Mary! I won’t be able to sleep a wink otherwise.”

Mary has just put Pauline and Scotty to bed. She answers the phone to hear Isabelle’s voice, “I was just thinking about you! I have to tell you this story! Today, that little French girl that I so adore showed up with an infestation of lice! I’m sure it came from the ship! I can only imagine how awful she must feel. Poor little thing can’t speak a bit of English and my French isn’t great, but I took her to the drugstore to get her the proper medication. After that, I took her to her home where I had to use sign language to assure the parents understood how to apply the medication. My, my, my – those poor people come across the sea with nary a morsel of food and few blankets, I can only imagine how frightened the little ones must be!”

Isabelle listens intently. She fears for Lizzie sometimes. With her size three shoes and petite body, she could never protect herself, but her mind is as quick as they come. “Well!” Isabelle remarks. “At least you didn’t have a shotgun loaded and aimed at you like the time you cleaned that dirty little boy at the coal camp. Thank Goodness someone wrangled that shotgun away or you wouldn’t be here today!”  By the way, I heard the prettiest gospel song while I was eating dinner, but for the life of me, I can’t remember where.”

Rollia sits on the front porch. The moon is high in the sky, the air warm as Orion traverses the nighttime sky. “I wonder who my boys will become. They sure are hard-working boys! And, that Glenn sure loves his football.”

Mary sits knitting. Her hands move over and under, across and through, never missing a stitch.  She smiles as she remembers her phone call with Isabelle. “I wonder what my children will be like when they are my age. They sure are smart already!”

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