The Old Iron Kettle and the Springtime (2020)

The Old Iron Kettle and the Springtime Gaylon Barrow Cathy Morris The Old Iron Kettle and the Springtime Clinging watching thinking life had resolved itself into these three functions for Hazel Sometimes it seemed the easiest thing in the world just to relax and let go There would be a few moments of dr
  • Title: The Old Iron Kettle and the Springtime
  • Author: Gaylon Barrow Cathy Morris
  • ISBN: -
  • Page: 429
  • Format: Kindle Edition
The Old Iron Kettle and the Springtime Gaylon Barrow Cathy Morris Clinging watching thinking, life had resolved itself into these three functions for Hazel Sometimes it seemed the easiest thing in the world just to relax and let go There would be a few moments of dread, a few moments of swimming with the current, then oblivion, for she could see nothing within her own swimming distances to which to go Clumps of trees, emerging fromClinging watching thinking, life had resolved itself into these three functions for Hazel Sometimes it seemed the easiest thing in the world just to relax and let go There would be a few moments of dread, a few moments of swimming with the current, then oblivion, for she could see nothing within her own swimming distances to which to go Clumps of trees, emerging from the rushing water, another marooned building far in the distance, nothing better than the roof to which she must still cling And there was the child, thrown so strangely in her care, sleeping his troubled, sighing sleep against the wet branch No matter how painful the clinging nor how dulled her mind she must not forsake him There was no sound nor sight of help Nils, then, had failed Poor Nils, so nervy about it all In the stillness and the vastness of the flood, then, she grew deathly frightened, panic stricken Up to now something had sustained her in all the horrible experience, that it would soon be over, that someone would come But now hope was giving away, maybe her sanity with it She cried out, and the little boy cried too at the sound, so that she forgot her own fright and comforted him His helplessness steadied her, and under her soothing words he fell again into his troubled slumber It seemed late afternoon Night would soon be coming on That would mean death, for she could not cling through the night Her thoughts centered on life as she had known it, as though the thinking could give it back to her What a glorious thing it was at its very poorest The hours she had most disliked, how she would welcome them now The simplest things would give her pleasure, the gifts of life we accepted so casually, how beautiful they were Three people centered her life, Mother, Dad, Neal She saw them all as through a long vista They were standing there at the end of it waiting for her to come, were holding out their arms to her, but she couldn t go because she had to cling to this wet roof They held her, the wet rotting shingles and the green branches over them, and would not allow her to go where Dad and Mother and Neal were waiting Suddenly she remembered a queer thing her grandfather had said the last week of his life He had been asleep, and half waking, had called out sharply Sands The sucking sands They hold you back and will not let you go She, too, knew the agony of being held back and not allowed to go And now she felt only an unselfish sympathy for the three she loved most She pictured their sorrow until in the torture of it her mind could no longer stand the thought and turned in anguish from it She and Neal had quarreled about something, so trivial now she scarcely gave it space in her mind Dad Mother Neal She said the names over as a nun says her beads She had but those three thoughts, and the thoughts were prayers Dad Mother Neal Those, and God, but give me back my everyday living and I will use it to the full All the extraneous matters of life were swept away with the flood waters All the foolish unnecessary things which surrounded it were vanished from her mind as the fields were vanished from the landscape Life was a simple thing of love and work and courage Nothing else mattered To have those, one had everything She dropped her head into her arm, tried to still the throbbing and the aching of it with a cramped numb hand But the pain was sharper, the throbbing grew loud and louder until it filled She jerked her head from her stiff arm, sat up suddenly The throbbing was a plane flying low, circling over the flood waters, a great wide winged bird throbbing its message of hope She pulled the now wakened Jimmie to her She waved, called, cried out Jimmie added his three year old voice to it.
The Old Iron Kettle and the Springtime Gaylon Barrow Cathy Morris

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    429 Gaylon Barrow Cathy Morris
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    Published :2020-03-27T10:57:10+00:00

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