02.20.12
Posted in Just Me at 7:09 PM by Ann Hornbeck
The Boiling Point
I feel alive! Truly alive!
My body senses a change; the
sensation is rapturous, tickling.
“What does “alive” mean?” I ask.
Let me re-trace my footprints,
one by one, across the burning sands,
my life already reduced to
a single drop of water.
I close my eyes to remember
but the world seems too calm
without you.
I seem to flutter from dark to light,
and light to very dark, again.
Sometimes I hear myself, but
I sound like someone else
echoes my plea.
I hold myself together with
the strength of a wet noodle,
full of starch, bloated, waiting
soaking in the bottom of the pan,
underwater, and overdone.
Do you feel me here, beside you?
You seem to disregard me.
Your body language is darting, empty, hot.
A bubbling sound fills my heart,
And suddenly, I awaken.
Senses soar, I feel you next to me,
But in the next second, you disappear.
There you are again, and again, you are gone.
One more chance with you – that’s
all I ask of life.
Finally, you boil!
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02.17.12
Posted in Just Me at 8:11 PM by Ann Hornbeck
Oh, life, how I embrace you. What have I learned?
How much more can I see? Unravel?
Count the stars – can you? Have you tried?
“1953, Galactic Bulge (between 275 and 35 degrees galactic longitude)
June, 1953, observer unknown, Hydrogen Alpha filter, unknown integration time.”
Saturn is in Virgo at the edge of the field – (I became aware that night).
Did you know that the eye senses brightness logarithmically?
Deneb – how wonderful to see you! How beautiful your light!
Do I cast a shadow? Black. Everything is black. A black so dark that it shines for me.
How fortunate to live so close to a star!
Without you, life would be fuzzy, dark, tempting.
As evening turns to sterling, I sink into the light. I glow, shivering with cold. Deneb, thank you! What would I see in the near distance? And, who within your light would know the difference?
Black on black; purple bubbling to the top – the highest order!
Ah yes, the Milky Way… the “road of the gods.” I hear your horses roar by, silent and true.
And look! The moon! The rock of ages.
————————————————————-
“When He Returns”
The iron hand it ain’t no match for the iron rod
The strongest wall will crumble
and fall to a mighty God
It is only He who can reduce me to tears
For like a thief in the night,
He’ll replace wrong with right
When He returns
Truth is an arrow and the gate is narrow that it passes through
he unleashed His power at an unknown hour that no one knew
How long can I listen to the lies of prejudice?
How long can I stay drunk on fear out in the wilderness?
Will I ever learn that there’ll be no peace, that the war won’t cease
Until He returns?
He sees your deeds, He knows your needs even before you ask
How long can you hate yourself for the weakness you conceal?
Of every earthly plan that be known to man, He is unconcerned
He’s got plans of His own to set up His throne
When He returns
- Bob Dylan
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02.15.12
Posted in Just Me at 7:27 PM by Ann Hornbeck
There is a video on Facebook that is very, very powerful and becoming viral as I speak. It is a conversation between Sean Stephenson and Scooter Braun about life. I listened to it multiple times and within its simplicity, the truth unfolded. When something like that takes hold, nothing will ever stop it. It is LIFE at its finest moment.
Two sentences I walked away with that I have already plastered on my brain, the walls of my cubicle at work, and eventually, on my mirror, are “I am enough” and “Time is our best friend.” Both are very powerful in two different ways, and perfectly support one another.
I know too well the art of carrying baggage around – I did it for most of my life. But today, I told myself STOP! I am perfectly perfect in all ways. I have friends and family to spend time with, dreams and wishes that come true, aspirations that I know I can reach, and time on my side. Greg Brown’s lyrics are “Time is just a whore.” But, as long as we are alive, we have time to change. And, if anything is constant, it is change.
I am the problem.
I waste time by hiding behind my self, pretending to be what I am not, instead of becoming who I am.
I judge myself against someone I have never known, and wonder why I can’t be like them.
My tears cleanse me.
My smile reflects me.
My body becomes me.
My heart shines for me.
My thoughts comfort me.
My blessings protect me.
The sky opens wide for me!
And even the birds sing to me!
I am!
I am enough!
I AM ENOUGH!
Peace!
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02.13.12
Posted in Just Me at 9:27 PM by Ann Hornbeck
I had a great birthday this past week! On Thursday, my friend Diane took me out for dinner where we had a chance to get out and catch up on our lives. She is a great friend. On Friday, the family took me to another great restaurant – one that I frequented many, many, many times when I originally lived in this area. It was as lovely as it ever was and I truly enjoyed being there again. On Saturday morning, I headed for the coast where I did my usual – having a fish taco in Half Moon Bay before heading to San Gregorio for music. While there, the band sang a trilogy of West Virginia songs just for little ole me. Of course, I am the one who shouted out: “It’s my 59th birthday and I am originally from West Virginia so please play an Appalachian song for – and not John Denver!” Everyone laughed, and so did I. But, when they played and sang what appeared to be one long song, it was actually three different compilations of “Take me Home” done in an amazing way that only they could make happen. It was FABULOUS, and of course, my heart was shining even as the tears formed a small river on my face! I headed to La Honda and sat with Louise and another friend at her house for a while before heading for dinner, and then dancing at Apple Jacks until my body said ENOUGH! I had ZERO alcohol at the bar, but I had a lot of DANCING! Thanks to Terryl for singing more birthday wishes as he and his band were playing that night. They were really good, too!
I was saddened to hear that Whitney Houston passed away this weekend. I send prayers of strength and healing to her daughter and family members. In the early days of her career, her eyes sparkled with happiness and pure joy; her voice, the song of angels, but somehow along the way, she was lost and never found. God bless you Whitney Houston!
Our society is bombarded with drugs. Drug wars. Drug cartels. Drug overdoses. Hooked on drugs. Prescription drugs. Over-the-counter drugs. Drugs, drugs, drugs. How did this happen to our society? According to a Frontline piece (http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/drugs/special/math.html“): ”The single largest marketplace for illegal drugs continues to be the United States. And: ”What keeps the drug industry going is its huge profit margins.”
No fingers pointed at Whitney. Who among us is a saint?
I choose to see her face, shining with joy, her eyes twinkling, her heart full, and now, at rest.
Until we meet again.
Peace out!
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02.06.12
Posted in Just Me at 8:25 PM by Ann Hornbeck
Today, I hardly felt any muscle pain in my legs from bending and pulling and hauling over the weekend – maybe a tightening once in a while, but nothing that prohibited movement. I welcomed being home today with “nothing” to do. Some of you may think, ah ha, now she’s going to start talking Zen, but truly, nothing meant absolutely “nothing!” I made some lunch, threw some clothes in the washing machine, and then read The New Yorker magazine while curled up with Kona the Cat amid the mountain of pillows and blankets.
Angie and the children are at the property to meet ”papa” who is assessing today’s progress with the various contractors doing what they were hired to do, including Uncle Aaron who is doing some rewiring. The upstairs walls are finished, and next will be the kitchen walls, I think. The living room beams will be re-configured and modified for a nicer effect, and those walls prepared as well. That’s all I know – I don’t ask too many questions! I can’t imagine the list of things that need to be checked off the ever-growing list.
Yesterday, Uncle David tested the pool cover, making sure it opened and closed (it did!), but now add to the list of purchases a new pool cover as the old one is cracked and ripped. Keeping Jack out of the pool when the cover is on is going to be interesting! Also add to the list, paint, paint brushes, tape, new carpeting upstairs, wood floors everywhere downstairs, new dishwasher, new double-oven, new microwave, new gas stovetop and an island, new faucets, new facelift for the cabinets, new pantry, new lighting, new tile in the entry way, a full power washing of the exterior, including the shutters, and last but by no means least – planting the garden! I have a suspicion that will begin on Saturday.
Oops! This weekend is my birthday, and I already planned to celebrate with friends on the coast, so no gardening for me! But, I’m sure there will be more opportunities over the year – ha! Plans are being made for a gathering with friends in my hometown sometime between Spring and early Fall. Although the plans are yet to be specified, we know that we want to do outreach into one or more communities, providing support in whatever way is decided for us. That will be a wonderful experience. I can’t wait to go back again, not only to visit family and friends, but I really, really, really, want to do that 18-mile hike which requires an overnighter in the woods. Those woods used to be so familiar to me, but once I left WV, the more time I was away, the more I forgot the nuances of those distant friends. I think I could walk the entire U.S. – but only if I could find that brave soul that I used to be.
Oh, how I remember those summer nights when we girlfriends would have a sleep over in the backyard of whomever was hosting the event this weekend. I love the early awakening, soft light peeking through a sterling sky, the grass wet with dew from the fog that settled among the mountains.
I am in the woods.
I am walking on the path.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I watch the leaves fall to the ground.
I listen to the birdsongs calling near and far.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I hear the river lapping against the shore.
I sense the trees, gently rocking back and forth.
Breathe in, breath out.
I see the sky a livid blue, the sun, soft and warm.
My heart is open and free.
I am.
Peace out!
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02.04.12
Posted in Just Me at 6:54 PM by Ann Hornbeck
On Friday, Jessica and Angie were at the property by 9:00 a.m., pulling weeds and getting all of the brush and dead plants out of the way. I helped a little, but showed up late due to a dentist appointment, so, by the time I got there, there wasn’t much left to do. Jessica and Angie “rocked!” I did a little bit of weeding and general cleanup, and just enjoyed being there. Then, it was time to go to the Davis Waldorf School to pickup the kids, then for lunch. Once we got back to the property, Aaron showed up and helped us pack the brush into his truck bed. Then, Aaron and Karlie drove to the burn pile near the end of the property. Karlie was so excited as he let her drive back from the burn pile to the driveway – her very first time driving at the ripe old age of “almost 12″ and a first for the property!
Today was a new day! We were all back early in the morning to start again. Robin was meeting a contractor, and his brother was going to put the fence back together around the pool, but, oops, the original owners did a horrible job taking it down, so parts were missing, etc. Instead, he helped Robin with other things. Jessica rolled up with a truck bed of compost, so Robin tilled the eight boxes that we cleaned yesterday and then we started blending it all together. Ahhh, nothing better than the smell of decomposed dirt on a hot spring day! I did a lot of weed pulling around the walkway and Angie and Jessica started laying hay on the garden pathways around the boxes.
Oh, how happy Jack and Stig were running around the property! Jack the Dog was in heaven, jumping in the pool as many times as he wanted throughout the day. But, no swimming for Stig – he won’t get near water! Both dogs were especially happy when the neighbor’s big, black, female poodle jumped through a hole in the fence to say: “Bonjour, les gars!” The three of them took off running and I noticed a lot of sniffing and tail wagging going on before she made her escape! Jack and Stig are both very lovable and big dogs – Jack a Black Labrador who weighs in at 90 pounds and Stig, a tall boxer weighing in at 80 pounds. Both of them would never hurt anyone except to save their families. Anytime the kids went anywhere on the property, Jack and Stig were right with them. Animals are such great companions.
In the middle of the day, grandma (that would be me) was sent home with all four grandchildren so the little ones could get their naps. Per Angie’s instructions, I also started dinner that is still cooking on low, waiting for everyone to come home. I hope it will be as good as she imagined as I take after my mom who was a great cook in her later years when she had time to explore and the money to buy the things she wanted. According to my children, I am a “picky eater,” but what I think I am is consistent (or boring perhaps?). The same boxes of cereal, sometimes nuts and fruit gracing the top of my cereal bowl, black beans instead of refried, honey in my coffee and milk, organic soups, Indian or Japanese or anything that is vegetarian, including pasta, all sounds good to me!
After dropping off the kids back at the property, I drove home just as the sterling sky settled over the world. This is and will forever be my favorite time of day. At a stoplight, I was mesmerized by a flock of birds flying above the trees. As they flew to the right, the next second, the switch flipped to the left, each bird knowing innately to turn as stragglers found their place among the flock. Again, now right, then left, their purpose undecipherable, yet my connection to the universe known as I sought to understand the patterns that I knew existed, with only a second to realize. What a beautiful moment to the end of a beautiful day!
Peace out!
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01.29.12
Posted in Just Me at 6:17 PM by Ann Hornbeck
It is Sunday evening, and I am finally finding time to write. Zoom, zoom, zoom – how fast our lives go by, so make the best of every moment. Yesterday, a girlfriend and I went to a local winery for music, dancing and fun. It’s a good thing I was with her because some man that she knows was hitting on her for a long time, giving her drink after drink after drink. She needed the outing as she is under a boat-load of stress taking care of her mother who is in the throes of dementia, a sister who has serious mental health issues, and another sister who rarely comes “home” to help; two sets of parents, her grown children, and five grandchildren are living at her home for different reasons. This seems to be the norm nowadays. But, as stressful as it can be, at least they have each other.
I am just finishing up a book (We Were the Mulvaneys), where I, being the youngest child, could totally relate to the youngest child, Judd, who realizes that the majority of his memories are not really his, but instead, the stories he always heard as a child from his mom, dad, brothers and sister. His memories are either wrapped around his view of the world, or tangled together with everyone else’s memories. I’m sure this is how many “youngest” children feel. I know many times in my life, I would try to tell a story that I remembered only to be told “No, that wasn’t the way it happened!” And, if I would say, “Do you remember…” one of my brothers would say, “I was long gone,” or ”You’re mixing two stories together.” I think we all try to find our way through the puzzles of our lives.
As a young child, I would open the family photo albums, staring intently at photos of my father, trying to remember his face, the waves in his hair, his smile, the clothes he wore, his slender and tall body (why he isn’t here with us). I remember the photo of my brothers and I sitting on the side of an armchair with Granddad Dutton in the middle. It is summer, my brothers are shirtless, and so am I. I am five or six years old. My blonde hair is cut very short, my mouth is slightly open, and my torso is scrunched, ripples of taut skin showing on my small body. All of us are watching a program on a black and white television set that is tucked into a cabinet, one that most originally held a 1930-era radio, or perhaps, that was just the way TVs looked back then. My brothers are nearing their teens, David for sure, Bill just behind him. Their bodies are lean and strong. They too are staring intently at the TV, their faces riveted to the small screen. Oh, how I love them.
I find another photo of myself, a young child in diapers walking down a hallway, looking back at the camera. Here I am at three or four years old, playing next to the shore somewhere on the Outer Banks or in Myrtle Beach. I stare at myself, wondering what I was thinking, knowing that it wasn’t long after that when our lives would change. And my mother, seeming so happy, joyous to be alive, her dark skin glowing in the summer sun, enjoying a break from her busy life. I loved going into my mom’s room and opening her diary, wondering what it was like to be a child in the 1940′s, a teenager after WWII ended, and then the era of what I call “Being Dean Martin,” a cigarette in one hand, a martini in the other while crooning out a song of love and happenstance.
I still have that diary. The diary is made of leather. The hinge is broken, perhaps purposely when the key was lost, or possibly from years of reading and reading. The binding is torn and the first page of the inside shows “Betty Jane Dutton,” with a list of five different addresses, each crossed out, except for the last one that eventually would become her final move, 17 years in the future to my hometown in West Virginia. The diary spans five years, from 1938 to 1942. Each page of each year is completed, rarely is there any “white space” and so far, the ink is readable, less so, those few pages that were written in pencil. At the back of the diary is an address area. Here, she has addresses of all of her friends, past and present, and from all of the places where she lived. Tucked in the address section is a newspaper cutout showing three men who just finished basic training and are headed off to war, obviously, these “Leathernecks” as the headline reads, are friends who she knew in school.
How wonderful to stare into your mother’s young and dynamic past! This diary, combined with the tomes of writings she created throughout her life will provide future generations not a glimpse of our past, but a full-blown history of then and now, and now and the ever-after. All thanks to mom, and everyone who had a part in her life – no puzzles required!
Peace out!
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01.22.12
Posted in Just Me at 12:12 PM by Ann Hornbeck
Oh man! KFOG always finds a song to play that I love, love, love. Gotta love the Freddy Jones Band’s “In a Daydream.” I think one of the most enjoyable times of my life was living single on the Peninsula south of San Francisco. From 1983 until my divorce in 2001, I was always commuting from the East Bay to Marin County where I worked in two different software engineering companies as a Software QA manager/director. This was a time when software companies were popping up everywhere in the valley and the technology was breathtaking in its infancy. While I was commuting from the North Bay to the Peninsula, my ex was having his own fun with a 20-something, so I took off on my own.
With one daughter in college at San Francisco State, and the other daughter working and taking classes at the local community college, and traveling back and forth between the USA and England, I rented a truck and relocated to Palo Alto. I found a great condo two streets over from the district of “cool,” with restaurants, cigar bars, bars, book stores; Mollie Stones for one of the best grocery shopping experiences anywhere; CalTrain where I could hop on the train and be in San Francisco within 40 minutes, eating in North Beach, waiting for the band to begin at the Saloon; riding my bike through the streets of Palo Alto; taking in a movie at one of the coolest movie theaters that only showed Cannes-level movies; hiking the trail bordering Stanford; gathering with friends where we would have marvelous meals, music and blind wine tasting parties. I had everything I could ever need. I was living the dream. Eventually, I moved to Los Altos where the dream continued. When I moved to the coast, things got even better. I absolutely loved living by the ocean. I have had a lot of fun in my life, but those were the happiest days of my life. When my company relocated to Wisconsin, I turned down their offer to relocate and found a company in San Mateo where I worked until they too, relocated out of the country.
The newspapers said “the bubble had burst” and with it, so did I. Eventually, I found a new job, but it never felt right. When mom died I knew it was time to leave. And I did. Now, my income is well below the poverty line. But, thanks to my daughters and their families, I am safe, fed, nurtured and frustrating as hell! It is true, when the tables are turned, the mother becomes the child, and the child, the parent. Perhaps someday, I will be able to fund myself, or take another job if that is the only answer. In the meantime, I’m no longer living the dream. I am in a daydream.
I dream of that little cottage in the country, where I will age, just like the mountains to the west that that I behold each day. They know my secrets, my hopes, and my love. I open the door and immediately, the scent of yarrow, sagebrush, marigold, roses, larkspur, and dogwood bring a wild freshness to the morning. I hobble to the flowerbeds, my knees popping as I bend down to dig at that nasty weed that my hands cannot destroy. “Where’s that spade shovel?” I stand up, but I have to stop for a moment so my legs can prepare for the 20-foot walk to the tool shed. As I exit the shed, I hear a car turning into the driveway. Both families have arrived, my grandchildren rolling out of the cars, racing to see who can run the fastest. “Grandma, Grandma! We came to help you with the canning! “I’m first!” No, I’m first!” “But I’m the strongest so I get to carry the wood inside!” “Yes, but I’m the oldest, so you have to listen to me!”
What a beautiful dream.
Peace out!
————————————————-
“Shine”
Give me a word
Give me a sign
Show me where to look
Tell me what will I find
What will I find?
Lay me on the ground
Fly me in the sky
Show me where to look
Tell me what will I find
What will I find?
Yea, yea, yea,
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
Love is in the water
Love is in the air
Show me where to look
Tell me will love be there
Love be there
Teach me how to speak
Teach me how to share
Teach me where to go
Tell me will love be there
Love be there
Yea, yea, yea
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
Give me a word
Give me a sign
Show me where to look
Tell me what will I find
What will I find?
Lay me on the ground
Fly me in the sky
Show me where to look
Tell me what will I find
What will I find?
Yea, yea, yea
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
Oh, Heaven let your light shine down
I’m gonna let it shine
I’m gonna let it shine
Heaven’s little light gonna shine on me
Hey, hey, Heaven’s little light gonna shine on me
Shine, shine on me
Shine, come on and shine.
- Collective Soul
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01.20.12
Posted in Just Me at 8:21 AM by Ann Hornbeck
The morning is dark and wet, a good thing as Spring arrived before Thanksgiving, and even now, continues to call the Bay Area “home” for what might become a year-long event as next week will bring 68 degrees. No skiing, no sitting around the fire, no cider to keep our bodies warm, and no one to cuddle, but that’s nothing new for me, but I always have my grandchildren!
Things sure do change around here. Angie and Robin have purchased a house on 5 acres of land in the country. This is good news for the entire family, as well as Jack the Dog, Kona the Cat, Millicent the Rabbit and of course, Blueberry and Buddy who will peck away the day, searching for worms and seeds. The property includes a huge stall for horses, a big building for storing items from tractors to bridles, a gazebo, a garden and most importantly – a swimming pool!
The property needs a LOT of work, and the inside definitely needs a facelift, so once the keys are handed over, the remodeling games will begin! I expect we will be moving in within three weeks, if not sooner. This is going to be an excellent way for everyone to get in better shape! I can only imagine what my brother Bill and Ms. Woody do every day on their 75 acres.
Angie’s plan is to have vines on the hill to the far right of the property, assorted fruit trees in the back of the property and close to the stream, and a bunch of other things that Angie and Jessica continue to discuss. A lot of work ahead, but before we know it, we will be weeding and weeding and weeding as we work on the front and back yards and everything in-between!

I will also be able to get my exercise in by working in the yard and maybe even running on the country road, or driving to Lake Berryessa where I can hike the Blue Ridge Mountain Range – not the one in Virginia – but the one here in Cali-Cali-California. What a view from Lake Berryessa!
Peace out!
“Going Up the Country”
I’m going up the country, baby don’t you wanna go
I’m going up the country, baby don’t you wanna go
I’m going up the country, baby don’t you wanna go
I’m going to some place where I’ve never been before.
I’m going, I’m going where the water tastes like wine
Well, I’m going where the water tastes like wine
We can jump in the water, stay drunk all the time
I’m gonna leave this city, got to get away
I’m gonna leave this city, got to get away
All this fussing and fighting, man, you know I sure can’t stay
Now baby, pack your leaving trunk, you know we’ve got to leave today
Just exactly where we’re going I cannot say,
but we might even leave the USA
‘Cause, there’s a brand new game that I want to play.
No use of you running, or screaming and crying
‘Cause you’ve got a home as long as I’ve got mine.
- Canned Heat
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01.14.12
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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