. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Saturday, 31 December 2011

in Three .. Two .. One.


The year of the flood ended with the  girl standing  in the haar, green grass beneath the soles of her boots, waiting. The Red water still flowed through her prairie town and this year, her neighbours did not complain about the cold and police did not fear finding frozen bodies on the river's edge.

This year, children asked their parents why they couldn't skate the river, and the men wondered when they would be revving up their Polaris for the inaugural winter ride over their snow covered fields. But the natives were happy. With open arms, they accepted Mother Nature's apology for the flood that had swept them off their land nine long months ago.

They had found new hope in the green Christmas, and men from the city helped them to start building new homes. Plank by plank, they worked together to replace the mould-infested ones sitting silent and empty on Lake Winnipeg.  Still, they crossed their fingers and prayed to their gods.

The girl balanced herself on heals too high, waiting on the new year. She prayed for snow, wishing for something to rely on.  Its seasons forever vacillating, she envisioned her life balancing itself on the tips of its toes, and she wondered if she might not fall over. 


Anthony Duce said...

This was a good place to rest and fall into another place. Great writing.

Marjolaine Hébert said...