The Walk

I like my hair today. It feels soft and curls around my finger, just so. So good that its cooperating because I’m really not in the mood to deal with it and I want to head out for a minute.

The sun feels nice and warm on my face. Rain? There’s a hint in the breeze, probably later in the afternoon. I guess I should hurry along and get the shopping done. It’s hard to hurry along on a beautiful day like this though. This has always been my favourite thing about living here – this long drive, lined with trees, whisper their secrets to me. Alton Johnson – you know, the boy that worked for the Steers? They put him on that limb. Poor boy howled like a hound dog as they strung him up. Didn’t do him no good though. I shush them. Today was not a day for sadness. I didn’t want to hear it. Smiling, I hurry along the path, swinging my basket.

There’s a man walking towards me. George? Yes! I run towards him, dropping my basket as I leap into his arms. He swings me around, laughter crinkling around his eyes. I laugh out loud, giddy from the love and pure joy I feel. These strong arms will always protect me. I sigh and rest on his chest, inhaling his scent.


“Mrs Stanhope? How are you feeling today? Ah, I see you’re smiling which means you will have some of this pudding. Come on now, let me get you all comfy in this chair”.

The nurse adjusts the blanket around her legs, tucking it firmly like the swaddling of a new-born and rolls her out to the veranda. “Southern summers can be tricky”, she thinks. “Let me place her under this fan. She could use the coolness”.

“How is she today?”, Myrna whispers, as she walks in, dropping her purse onto the chair.

“Much better. Today she is smiling and quiet. That is a vast improvement on yesterday screaming”, Nurse replies. “Maybe you can get her to try some of this pudding. She has not eaten since yesterday”.

Myrna takes it and places it on the table beside her. Nurse smiles and squeezes her shoulder in encouragement. ” She’s blessed to have you. It will be okay”. Myrna smiles in return and wheels the chair around to face her.

“Mama?”, she whispers, tucking a curl behind her mother’s ear.





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