![]() ![]() She imagined their worry shrouded over them in the air like the gray cloud of smoke. Libby watched for a long time as they talked, so quiet she couldn’t make out what they said. Mom walked over, slipped her hand in his, and sat in the chair next to him. Her curly brown hair was neatly tucked under a red handkerchief. She wore her brown-checked house dress and yellow apron. Mom turned off the radio and leaned against the sink, her arms folded in front of her. Sorry folks, like I said, the drought continues." ![]() We need rain if we’re gonna get more’n a dozen bales out of that field.Ī voice from the radio on the counter announced, "Expect temperatures in the nineties by this afternoon, and those temperatures are staying with us for the next few days, at least. The cows won’t get much out of it, and we’ve got no oats or corn to speak of. ![]() Gotta rake it today, and it’s not gonna make good bales. The hay was half dried already when I cut it yesterday. He raked his fingers through his wavy black hair and shook his head. The air around him filled with hazy smoke. The ashtray at his elbow was piled high with butts and a fresh cigarette glowed between his fingers. Libby snuck down to the bottom of the steps and leaned around the corner.ĭad sat at the kitchen table. Across the room, Libby’s big sister Patricia, who had just turned nine, sprawled with her arms and legs touching every quadrant of the bed in her usual sound asleep position. Libby eased out of bed, careful not to wake four-year-old Beth, whose thumb poised on her moist bottom lip as if she had just removed it. Dad’s words from downstairs, were followed by Mom’s, Shh, honey. Already the heat and humidity felt thick in the room.ĭammit. Tiny pinpoints of sunshine pierced through holes in the window shade. She sat up, fully awake, as the dream’s desperate feelings still churned inside. Breathy moans come from her as she crouches down again and again, trying to fill her hands with water for the thirsty animals. Their massive black and white bodies crowd around the water tank to get to her and their tongues push toward her. She cups her hands and rises to offer the precious wetness to the cows. Libby squats down in the tank and tries to scoop water from small puddles at the bottom. As the herd comes toward her, their plaintive mooing gets louder and louder. In the dream, she is in the cow’s empty water tank. Her heart beat with a strange urgency and she made herself lie still to let the images materialize. Libby startled awake from a dream that swirled just out of reach. The secret will not be ignored or lost or forgotten or killed. It swells behind the silence of your not telling. It seeps out in the dampness under your arms and down your back. It is there in the quickening of your heartbeat. It appears in the turn of chin, flutter of eyelid, clearing of throat, tenor of voice. It moves through conversations without a sound. It floats around you like a breath, an invisible presence, penetrating every corner of every room you are in. The secret lies in the shadows where you think no one can see. The secret seeps into your dreams and wakes you gasping for air. You can’t keep a secret, even though you never tell it, even though you have no words to tell it. With whom I shared my passion for writing and creating. And she learns, even though her sisters did not know the secret, their lives, too, were changed by it.Ī Land No Map Can Find is told from the lens of a child as she grows into adulthood, in a struggle against the destructive behaviors of adults, and the consequences of their actions. It is decades later when Libby experiences panic attacks which threaten to unhinge her, that the awful memories come back. Libby witnesses the tragedy, and in her six-year-old mind, mixes what is real and imagined, until the true memory is repressed. For years she believed the flood caused the terrible rift that came between Mom and Dad, for the way her mom grew silent and pushed them all away, and for the anger and sadness that tore her dad apart.īut there is another reason, a betrayal and an act of rage with consequences so devastating, it must be kept secret. Libby wanted to blame the flood that came and stayed until all hope for replanting was lost, drowned their milk cows, and altered the landscape beyond recognition. The secret will not be ignored or lost or forgotten. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |