by David Ackley
But we shouldn't forget the war. Even underground, subdued below the trials of the depression, it goes busily about its perennial business of preparation. Some, mothers among them, by intuition or experience—like Lela who'd seen Eugene off to The Great War—feel little electric sizzlings in the night. Wars past and future trouble the weary present. She is keenly awake to Mussolini in Ethiopia and the army captain who tells a Nashua gathering to expect one every twenty years or so. She has sons, and grandsons maturing and she eyes their future like someone standing too far above a path where a deaf child wanders toward a rail crossing.
4
favs |
905 views
8 comments |
114 words
All rights reserved. |
From a memoir of my family and some wars of the 20th century.
This story has no tags.
Beautiful!
Chilling last image.
Excellent.
Perfect. The italics makes it stand apart from the surrounding text. As though a change of narrator, or point of view.
Thanks Erik, Ed,and Gary for the kind comments.
Eamon,
As always, I appreciate the detail of your comments. There is certainly a wish to acommadate shifting perspectives, which I find seems to happen as I delve deeper over time.
"But we shouldn't forget the war. Even underground, subdued below the trials of the depression, it goes busily about its perennial business of preparation."
Yes to this and the whole piece.
*
Thanks, Bill. Good to have you read this and comment and just to see you back.
Thanks, David!