Once we cleared the trees, we instinctively ran towards the river. I could hear them behind us. We didn't have much time. Our only hope lay on the other side of the water in front of us. We were going to have to swim for it. We had no other choice. Breathing hard from our escape, we stopped, both of us bent at the waist with hands on our knees as we tried to catch a breath. My lungs were usually the stronger between the two of us, and they didn't disappoint me today. Sam continued to wheeze, but at least, she was standing and not passed out or coughing uncontrollably as she tried to catch her breath. That's good. Her asthma was under control. She'd be able to go on. I stood up and breathed in deeply of the salt-water river smell. With my eyes closed, I could easily believe that we were at the ocean. I opened my eyes half expecting to see flip flops scattered along a beach and sun-bathers asleep on their towels, but instead I saw the dry banks of the river with dozens of pairs of shoes lined up perfectly parallel to the water's edge - each pair glittered in the bright sun, reflecting shades of red, blue, orange, purple, and yellow. Fear immediately bulletted through me. These were Nataran shoes, and it could only mean one thing: they were in the water waiting for us. They'd laid a trap, and we'd run into full speed.
My husband and I recently watched The Help - a story about a group of African American women who worked as maids in Jackson, Mississippi in the '60s. One of the protagonists works for a woman "who got no b'ness havin' babies." This woman, this family maid and nanny, tells her little two year old ward regularly, "You is pretty. You is smart. You is impor'ant." How difficult it is for us to believe that about ourselves - really, to believe anything good about ourselves. I always try to be my raw self when I write a blog post. Today is no exception. So I confess that I've been drowning in a storm of lies lately. My head knows they're lies, and I could easily tell anyone else in the same place that they're lies, but I haven't been able to get a grip. There have been so many of them coming at me at once. It seems that I just break the surface, gulp some fresh air of truth then get pulled back under. One thing I know: the enemy of our ...
I like it Lori. I want to know what happens next!
ReplyDeleteKeep writing.