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“There in the night sky was
Orion the Hunter constellation who seemed to stay in place but in
actuality is ever changing.” “Only Starwalker, Wat sah moie could step
the distance from one star to another.” “Star walker, my grandfather,
was a hunter too.”
Curled up on a blanket the
children were absorbed in their grandmother Dee's story telling. If there
was a little sadness in the grandmother's heart as she remembered her own
father telling them, her brothers and sister, these stories she never let
the children know.
The next day the rain swept
over their area with a real drenching. The rattle of the very large drops
on the back porch tin roof was okay. Should the sound become over whelming
simply shutting the glass doors kept the roar down to a more pleasant
muted rhythm.
As if in agreement with the
rhythm the keys of her typewriter rattled just as merrily along. She
tried always to remember the discipline taught to her as a young woman
while studying with many different
teachers of art. This is how she treated her writing too.
“Set aside some time every
day to work at your contribution,” her teachers told her. “Maybe an
illusive muse or passion with the need to set at a work is not there every
day.” “Still there is every part of an art or a craft to be done.” “Do
something every day.” The habit learned early never left her and this is
what she was practicing, as usual, this dark morning.
Suddenly a crash of
lighting split the air. The flash of it told how close it was. The whole
house was now dark.
“Oh bother.” “Now where
are those candles?” Before she could find them, she saw a car racing up
the drive. “Now who is this?” “At this time of morning?”
With his head down and both
hands full of grocery sacks she saw her husband, Sam, preparing to make a
run for the cover of the patio.
“I thought you went to
work!” Dee held the door open for him.
“Rain dumped on me before
the river bridge and I knew there would be no work today.” “I ran to the
grocery store for some milk and eggs.”
He was, as usual, more
adept at quickly working through any emergency. In a few minutes he had
the Kerosene lamps going. Their soft glow over the dark room was so
pleasant, not at all garish and definite as the bright electric lights.
She had herself finally found the large candles and had one lit also.
Lila, their granddaughter,
who had spent the night with them was quietly observing the activity while
she waited for a lighted house. With the lights on she now began to visit
with them. “Grampa!” “That lightning was so loud and so bright it lit up
my whole room.” “Grampa, it was very close.”
“Just seems to be close.”
“Actually, it was quite a distance, you know.”
“Grampa!” “It was close.”
“How about some biscuits
for breakfast?” Sam was changing the subject.
Lila was distracted. “Yum,
and with blackberry jelly?”
“You got it, sweetheart.”
“Grampa, can we light the
wood stove?” Lila was interested in the parts of their life tied up with
old things such as wood fires, candles, kerosene lamps or anything
different from the run of the mill everyday events.
“It isn't cold enough for
that.” “We would be burning down with the heat of it.” “After all this
is May.” Sam was enjoying this brief respite with his little
granddaughter.
It wasn't but a brief
time later when the power was back. “Sure seems to be repaired quickly.”
Dee was interested in how that could be.
“Oh well.” “Probably,
wasn't that much involvement.” Sam had a way of answering her. He knew
she was totally ignorant about anything going to this but he always gave
her the dignity of a reply.
In a little while Dee was
back at her particular project rattling along on the keyboard, lost in the
world of her writing. It was a lovely way to start her day and gave her
the feeling she was doing something for others rather than just the common
chores associated with her family. A favorite melody swirled around her
from her left side where the CD player stood. Whatever mood she wished to
set in agreement with her own feelings was there. Whether it was classic
or country did not matter. This the muse controlled too while she ran her
finger down the stack of music, putting on whatever she had selected at
random.
Through the large front
windows not much was missed as to comings and goings. At this time a car
was driving up as quickly as her own husband had arrived earlier. He was
racing the rain, but what was the urgency in this car's approach?
The woman and her young
daughter were now on the front steps tapping on the window of the front
door.
With one step only Dee
stood up and reached for the front door, opening it carefully because of
the small space they had to stand in front of it.
“Yes!” “How may I help
you?”
“Have you seen my two small
children?” The woman was obviously agitated and worried.
“Oh no!” Dee told her.
“Are they lost?”
“I don't know where they
are?” “Do you think they are playing with Lila?”
“No.” “She has been here
all morning by herself with us.” “This is frightening.”
“Oh yes it is.” With this statement the woman was off the steps back into
her car and gone.
A sudden chill was on the
morning. Memories of always having to be alert as to her own children's
safety washed over her as cold and heavy as the passing rain. |
