Lena’s Life – Clouds of Doom (7)

We all awoke early this morning to bid my darling Aunt farewell. Even my father was up, in his robe. He always looks so strangely casual in his robe, I hardly recognise him.

Nothing could ease our parting, and when she held me for the last time before getting into the cart that would take her to town I am afraid a few tears were left on the shoulder of her green traveling dress. She whispered, “I love you my little bird, stay well till I’m back. It won’t be so very long – you’ll see.” And then the cart driver was muttering something about needing to go, and so she was torn from my arms.

I stood next to father and tried to hide my face from Henry who had come to watch her parting also.

I stood till the others had dispersed back into the house, till the last of the dust had settled back down and the scenery was just the same as if she had never been there. Trees blew in an unsettled kind of way, and the clouds meant no sunrise, and not much birdsong either. It was rather dreary, but I always enjoy when the outside world mirrors my inner one.

I did not feel inclined to return to the house afterward, so set off on a early morning walk instead. Unsure of where to head, I thought I would climb up the hill that lay behind our home. It is always good to get up on top of something when one feels ill at ease.

As I climbed, I felt the increasing sense of disappointment that Aunt Cora’s trip had been beckoning for some days. The thought of my dearest friend going away without me, while I am left here in this desolate little town makes me wonder if my life shall ever hold the interest I long for. It is not as if I long for that much, simply something other than what I have. As I reached the top of the hill I breathed in the fresh morning air, cold and fruitful in my lungs and throat. Closing my eyes, I stood panting for a moment on the grassy slope, the trees whispering below me as I shut out the all too familiar sight of my home.

Oh how I long to get somewhere – to see something – to feel something.

Yours truly,

Lena Digby