Lena’s Life – Sparrows and Clouds (6)

Dear reader,

This is the the last day of having Aunt Cora home. I woke with a strange and formidable sensation in my stomach, as if the world would end at midnight. Then I remembered the awful truth: it was the last day with my favourite person. Till she comes back, of course.

We spent the morning packing Aunt Cora’s bag in her room. She has the most lovely dresses in her closet that she barely ever wears, and I made her pack them all. One always has need of nice things when abroad. We also put in her Bible and favourite book of poems for the train and boat rides. I think she shall likely need to buy more books, as I don’t see how one can read two books for so many hours. When I told her this, my dear aunt simply told me that one can read the Bible one hundred times, and learn something new each time. I am afraid I have not been reading mine enough to find out. I intend to start while Aunt Cora is away, so I may perhaps call on the help of God when I cannot call on hers.

After packing, Aunt Cora insisted we make some biscuits for me to have once she’s gone. Yet another depressing reminder of her departure, I am afraid. We made those with ease, and then sat in the sitting room eating several hot from the oven.

In the afternoon Henry came in and said goodbye to my aunt. He is still most irritating, and aways winks at me most ridiculously. He is yet to learn that winking is not a good practice, especially at younger women. I think he knows it irritates me and does it on purpose. That would make far more sense as to why.

It was all very sweet of him though, because he made Aunt Cora her very own comb by hand. I did not know that he held such skill, and found myself rather taken aback by his gesture. I am afraid no such gesture shall ever come my way. I have never been very friendly to him. On the other hand, my aunt has always shown him great kindness (as she does with all people), and even taught him letters and numbers a little last summer because he is too poor to attend the local school. I suppose I ought to have compassion on him – I will admit that I am sorry his parents were so horrid to him and he had to run away and live on our farm. Anyhow, the comb was a very nice gesture, but made my gift of a letter, drawing, and poem seem rather flat.

The letter was for my aunt to open once she was on her way, the drawing is of me, so she may not forget my face with all the fun she shall have. Finally, the poem is simply about how sorry I am to see her go, but how it is all because I love her so.

I gave my gift after supper, before I came to bed…and she smiled on me in that lovely motherly way, and planted three kisses on my face. One on each cheek, and one on my forehead. I feel I shall sleep better than expected.

Nothing bothers me so much about Aunt Cora going away as the thought that I will not know what to do with myself those long three months. I feel that although my world is so small here, she has always guided it. To think of what might happen with her gone is terrifying. What will I end up getting myself into?

Yours truly,

Lena Digby