28 12 / 2011
Her father was miles away fighting. The only part of him left in their cottage was a tattered photograph of him. Every night, she’d hold the photo, embrace it, hold it close to her heart, until her tears dried up on her cheeks. She was an only child, and she promised her father to be accommodating to her mother and never to be a nuicanse. She was terrified, for she knew, at any point, the enemy could holler at her mother, pull them out of the ancient cottage, crushing their dignity. They were oppressed and there was nothing to do about it, except for doing their best in concealing their identity. Silly Janie, she thought while caressing her doll’s hair, she’s too afraid, she doesn’t know everything’s going to be alright. Janie stared right back at her, obviously unintrigued. Her mother was exhausted and exasperated, in all her life she succeeded in nothing but making burnt French toast and winning her husband’s proposal. She was losing him, he was so vulnerable to death that she saw it before her eyes! With hardship comes ease, with hardship comes ease…
