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Wind howls and moans as it passes through houses. It slaps bright red onto cheeks as I move along the side walk. Children are bundled in coats and scarves. I giggle at their silly faces and remember when I used to teach them. Hold them, shaking with fear in a cold pool of chlorine and water. I would show them that one day they would not be scared, they would learn to swim and this place, seeming so big, would shrink in size.

I would pretend to be mad as they latched onto  the wall and splashed water into my face, and I would be proud like a parent when they took their first strokes.

Back at home we are swimming in boxes pilled high like a wall. We make stairs and try to climb to the top. But cardboard is thin and we fall right through. So we hang here like rock climbers, unable to see the next foothold. Our arms grow tired as we try to feel around for it, legs dangling.

I don’t want to let go, like the children latched onto the wall, I don’t trust what is below.

“I’ll catch you” he whispers. I look for the foothold.

I see mum hanging beside me, so tired from climbing, from being dragged up this mountain. I see her let go of her grip and watch the father guide her. “She listened to his whisper,”  I think and let go too.

Yes my arms are still tired, and I have to keep moving up this wall. But the father is guiding me. He knows my every move.

In two fridays we move to the lovely home awaiting us in Kincardine. Please pray for renewed strength for the whole family.


One response

  1. I’ll pray for you.Moving is stressful.God Bless your new home.

    November 24, 2010 at 3:04 pm

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