Autumn's Picture Challenge 2
You stood so still on the ridge looking out over the road, so silent. I watched the breeze tug gently at your clothes and your hair and wished that there were something I could do to take away the sadness, to seal shut the hole I knew must be opening wider with every step we took until it seemed that all of you would come gushing out, leaving a dark red stain on the road and a pile of soft red meat for the birds. I took another swig from my water bottle and a deep breath. Maybe the heat was just getting the better of me. You'd hold it together for your sister, I knew you would. I watched you watching her struggle towards us and smiled. You'd both be alright. You were Her children, after all.
I remembered the last time I'd traveled down this road. I know that you didn't remember. You and Alice were both just babies then, you just barely walking. I carried you most the time, but you were stubborn, and every so often would kick until I'd let you down and you'd stumble along on your own for a few steps. I'd laugh and we'd play until your mother was almost out of sight down the road, and then I'd gather you up again and run after her. It was Summer then too, and the hills were all golden as they are now, only then the sky was less grey. She loved you. I know you can't imagine how much, but if she hadn't have loved you, she wouldn't have been able to leave you.
Alice has caught up to us now, and you come over to wear I'm sitting, her hand in yours. She looks tired and defeated, but you look defiant.
"I thought we'd rest here a minute," I tell you, and you nod. Alice collapses immediately. I pass you both water bottles and bags of trail mix, the kind with colorful chocolate candies. "Yum," Alice says, carefully picking the candies out. You don't say anything, eating silently.
"How much further do we have to go Aunt Becca?" Alice asks.
"Not too much further now girls," I answer, "we should be there by tomorrow."
"Oh goodie," she says, turning to you, "just think Moira, tomorrow night we'll have a warm bed and a warm bath!"
You say nothing, just look back out over the road we've traveled, back to the city you've left.
Alice babbles on about clean clothes and no more dust, but you cut her off. "'Come on," you say," the sooner we get going again the sooner we'll be there," and you take off, leaving Alice and I no choice but to follow. I try to take her hand, but she pulls away to run off after you. I watch her grab on to your coat and see you smile as you reach down to take her hand.
And I know you'll be okay. You might not know it yet, but you have your mother's smile.