In her dreams women, beautifully gowned and with rings on their
hands, came to brush the wet, matted hair back from her forehead. Across
the little wooden bridge before her eyes came wonderful men, women, and
children. The children ran forward. They cried out to her. She thought of
them as brothers and sisters who were to come to live in the farmhouse and
who were to make the old house ring with laughter. The children ran toward
her with outstretched hands, but never arrived at the house. The bridge
extended itself. It stretched out under their feet so that they ran forward
forever on the bridge.
And behind the children came men and women, sometimes together, sometimes
walking alone. They did not seem like the children to belong to her. Like
the women who came to touch her hot forehead, they were beautifully gowned
and walked with stately dignity.
The child climbed out of the window and stood on the kitchen floor. Her
mother hurried about. She was feverishly active and often did not hear when
the child spoke. "I want to know about my brothers and sisters: where are
they, why don't they come here?" she asked, but the mother did not hear,
and if she did, had nothing to say. Sometimes she stopped to kiss the child
and tears came to her eyes. Then something cooking on the kitchen stove
demanded attention. "You run outside," she said hurriedly, and turned again
to her work.
Pages:
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328