Lena’s Life – an invalid in summer (3)

Dear reader,

I am afraid I have missed writing these past two days. Aunt Cora has been entertaining me so thoroughly that I completely lost interest in this journal.

My ankle is still awful and swollen and unable to be walked on. I have been laying on the sofa with a tower of pillows beneath my ankle. Thankfully it rained and was miserable weather these past days, or else I may have gone completely insane.

This ankle is rather putting a momentary stop to my search for interest in life. It has done quite the opposite, and made life most boring.

This morning I was outraged at Henry again and told my aunt some awful things about him. She was most unhappy at my outburst, and instructed me in forgiveness, which I, at first, paid no heed to. But I ended up with such a stomach ache in the afternoon that I figured I would have to pardon him at some point, and preferably sooner than later if I wanted to be able to enjoy my dinner. It always turned my stomach sour when I am cross.

So I told myself that I forgave him. But this afternoon, when he came into the house to deliver vegetables to the kitchen I found the sourness return. I spied through the open door at him, and my eye brows refused to sit anywhere but almost covering my eyes. I thought some awful things about him, reader, which I shall not repeat. But after he had crossed the kitchen threshold several times with armfuls of carrots and beans, he came towards the sitting room door!

After glancing behind him, he let himself in, and after finding that Aunt Cora was nowhere to be seen walked up to me – of all things! I thought he might tease or taunt me, and I was fully prepared to try slap him (although no lady should ever do such a thing in such a circumstance).

“I wanted to come and say that I am most sorry for what happened to your foot.” was what he said instead, to my complete shock.

“Oh,” I replied, rather taken aback, “Well, it isn’t my foot, but my ankle. But I forgive you. I know it wasn’t all your fault.”

So you see reader, we have made amends. I ate my dinner with gusto.

On other matters, Aunt Cora went to town about an hour ago, and has not returned. (It is currently five O-clock). I do wonder what keeps her. She said she was going to check for post at the office, and see if they had in any new fabrics. I have no clue what could have kept her. I shall inform you in my next writings no doubt.

It is funny, how Aunt Cora has always been here. As if she were, for all eternity. I sometimes wonder about her life before, and about the man who ran away from their engagement. What an awful thing to do to a woman! It bemuses me as to what made her agree to come live here, in such a small village, so far away from any other prospects or excitement. I suppose I must simply be grateful she did choose to…but a part of me always wonders if she misses it, if she longs for the life she could have had. I think I would if I were her. How I pine for adventure!

At times I consider my options: the ways I could find some interest in life. This village does not hold many options though, and I always go back to going abroad. I couldn’t even imagine the fun I would have, traveling, seeing the world, meeting new people. Oh the places I would go! Another thought that crosses my mind is those people who move across the world to start a new life somewhere. America, Australia, and New Zealand. I’ve heard of it from Aunt Cora, and the odd conversation between her and Papa. It sounds exciting to me, but of course, I could never expect to go as a single women, which poses the question of marriage.

Marriage is not horrid to me. But it is also something I have no wish to hurry to. Some of the older girls at school already have themselves beaux and one even got married last Spring. It is wild to me that someone would want to settle down to soon. But I suppose each has their own dreams. Mine simply lie far far away.

Well dearest, my aunt has still not returned, so I think I shall call for some tea and continue writing my latest novel while I wait. I do realize I have barely told you of my novel writings – I shall another day.

Farewell for now.

Yours Truly,

Lena