Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
-- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
It is a busy time as many of us prepare for Thanksgiving. If you have the opportunity, be sure and participate in WORDS FOR WEDNESDAY. Elephant's Child has provided the prompts for November. The words for today are:
river dashing interest free shrug naive and/or light wax winter bucket disillusioned super
Here is my contribution this week.
SARA'S WALK by Granny Annie
It had been a perfect day for a walk along the river bank. Lots of people were fishing. Quietly they cast out, slowly reeling the line back across the water.
A group of children appeared out of nowhere and were dashing around the serious sportsmen. The kids showed no interest in the activities. The fishermen strongly cautioned the kids to be quiet, insisting they were scaring the fish. One person added some free advice, “If you don't go you will be chopped up and fed to the fish”. The naïve children took note of the warning. All ran away. A few were angry and some were crying.
Sara's walk was coming to an end. She gave a shrug hating to end the freedom she always felt on these adventures. The light was fading. She knew they would soon have a waxing moon because it always followed a full moon which had been the night before. The smell of winter's approach was in the air.
Her bucket was almost full. Sara had been carefully gathering acorns on her walk. Acorns were known as the ultimate survivor food, packed with fats and nutrition. Every year Sara gathered them. She would boil out the bitter tannic acids and grind them into flour.
Sara was disillusioned in her hope to find rose hips. Not only do rose hips provide a pop of color in the winter landscape, they’re also full of sweet pulp that can be eaten raw or boiled down for syrup, jam or tea. She would have to wait a few weeks for those special treats.
Walking in cool silence Sara heard a rustling near the path. She halted in her tracks to see what furry critter might emerge from the brush. She peered with squinted eyes. Swiftly the group of children from earlier tore out of the bushes yelling and screaming. They wore superhero shirts, had painted faces and set on Sara with a vengeance. “We will chop you up and feed you to the fish.” they expressed with great emotion.
“It wasn't me!” Sara shouted. “I did not threaten you. It was the fishermen.”
The nuts tumbled and scattered around the path floor. There would be no acorn flour this year.
My dear blog friends, Tomorrow is the memorial service for my oldest nephew. I have not talked about his death on my blog. It is painful for me but more painful for my brother and sister-in-law. He was such a sweetie pie when he and his brother first became a part of our family. They were foster children. They were Kiowa Indians. My brother and sil had been told that because the boys were from such a dark tribe, few Native Americans would adopt them. They truly believed the boys would be with them for life. At the end of the first year the DHS took the older boy (age 6) and placed him with a Native American family where he could be with another brother. That was difficult for my brother and sil. They knew then that they could never let five-year-old Martin be taken from them and they began the court process to legally adopt. Martin was a scoundrel. He would do anything and charm his way out of it. I especially loved him and eagerly helped him out of every problem that I could. But Martin's problems grew beyond clever pranks and running away from home. He married, had three beautiful children and two grandchildren. But his marriage of 30 years could not survive Martin's drug and alcohol addiction. We all exhausted ourselves attempting to rescue Martin. His two sisters did all they could but he used them as well. Martin had found a few of his living Kiowa siblings and even they attempted to reach out to Martin. Finally we all had to let go and let God. He surprised us by finally, at age 54, admitting he had a drug problem. He checked himself into a rehab facility, went through detox, had an enjoyable evening at the facility drug free. His parents had both been able to tell him they were proud of him for the first time in years. That night Martin went to bed and died in his sleep. This morning I awakened wondering how can I get through this service? My own children suffer for this oldest cousin whom they loved. He was a rescuer to both of them at different times. I feel badly for turning my back on my nephew. He called to me on several occasions but obtaining money was his ultimate goal. His parents had to cut him off but my brother was the least successful. He could not let go of his son. I feel guilty for my pain while Martin's parents are feeling their sorrow so very deeply. My most visual memory of my nephew Martin was picking him up at his elementary school. He was on the football team and had been at practice. The rest of the team was still on the field but Martin was in front of the school leaning on a pole in his uniform with a group of girls gathered around him listening to his stories. I pray dear Martin that you have found the peace of God that passes all understanding. I will always love you.
Elephants Childis providing our prompts this month in the Words for Wednesday writing challenge. All you have to do is write a story, poem, or whatever comes to mind. Use some of the words or all of the words.
If you join in leave a comment on Elephant Child's blog so everyone else can enjoy your addition. This week's prompts are:
The two young men rushed in and out of the construction site. They threw the COPPER wire in the bed of the TRUCK. Their escape looked guaranteed. High-fiving as the pair traveled down the road, lights and sirens behind the truck brought their adventure to an end.
The Highway Patrol officer approached the vehicle and ask the pair to EXPLAIN all the items under a tarp in the back of the truck. The boys should have known from the beginning of the adventure that it was ILL-FATED. What they thought would be a NEAT trick was not working out.
The robbers were placed in separate cars and it was obvious the authorities had no intention to UNITE the pair. The questioning began. Their explanations for their actions were TENUOUS.
These were not hoodlums thugs. They were from a highly EDUCATED, wealthy BRANCH of the community. It had been a lark for these thieves. They were bored and had heard that there was a rash of robberies taking place at construction sites around the city. Who would ever suspect them? And if caught, they could buy their way out.
There was a low HUM in the courtroom as the judge entered. Every one could see the DECISIVE look on his face. The guilty verdict gave NOTICE that persons of privilege would not be able to get away with such pranks. Both young men were sentenced to 90 days in jail and six months community service.
Back in the day before seat-belts in cars, I was standing in the seat at age three. My dad stopped short. I fell forward and hit the ashtray and sliced open my eyebrow. Lots of stitches for that but barely a scar. At age 12 I was walking on a wall and fell, cutting my knee to the bone. Stitches for that and have a scar.
Klutzy as I am, it's astonishing that I have never had stitches