It was early morning the next day that finally roused Leah from her restless sleep. Her eyes fluttered open and she dazed into the vast morning sky above her. A few fluffy white clouds floated peacefully while the sun dazzled the night away to make way for day to come. For a moment or two, she thought everything was normal. She heard a cockerel crowed somewhere nearby and the heavy noise of the hooves of horses.
She stifled a yawn and snuggled closer to the object she slept next to. Suddenly curious, her eyes squinted at the solid object beside her. Her mother, pale and motionless rest peacefully where she had left her the night before. Her ragged clothes that did nothing to warm her from the cold were damp from the rain. Leah quickly rise to her feet, startled. Her mother is dead. She took a heavy step back as painful memories from last night’s raid filled her head.
“Leave…” Her mother’s heeding filled her memory.
“Leave? How could you do this to me? Why must you go and leave me here when I need you the most?!” Leah shouted to her mother, who of course was dead and gone to the world to reply back. She swallowed back a sob and threw her gaze somewhere else. She caught the sight of a few wild flowers growing lavishly between the cracks on a stone wall and quickly made her way to achieve them. She came back to her mother and places a beautiful banquet of the flowers over her folded hands above her chest. Pushing a loose strand of auburn hair behind an ear, she kissed her mother lovingly over each eyelid before planting a long one on her forehead. “Be happy, wherever you are, mother,” she whispered.
Without looking back, she stride away from where her mother lay and made way to the heart of the village where she hoped she could...
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...go through ol’ this trouble, would we?” the smaller man with the thin blonde hair complained.
“Ye right. Come on, quit with ye mumblin’ like a woman, we haven’ all day. We gotta get all them dead bodies and burn ‘em all. Makes me sick to the stomach to see ‘um.”
The two men left together and disappeared from sight. Leah felt her body slumped to the ground. Her arms barely sturdy enough to carry her weight.
“No, this is impossible. They cannot all be dead. Impossible…” she slurred but as she remembered the two men’s conversation, she knew it must be true. A thousand thoughts drifted too quickly through her mind. Her memories with her friends and neighbours whom she favoured were all dead, their blood smearing the very soil they live on and their bodies were soon to be burnt to ashes. Their presence no longer remembered. Leah was the only survivor of a mass massacre.
through a small window. She found her way to a river which led her back to the ghetto.
It was early, the sun was just beginning to peak over the mountains that lined the distant horizon. The breeze carried with it the scents of dew and the variety of wildflowers that grew along the lake shore. Flocks of birds flew over head, their cries piercing the silence of morning.
Some would argue that my story is incomparable to that of the young woman’s due to the significantly different circumstances and the different time periods. Nonetheless, it is not the story that is being compared; it is the underlying emotion and specific experiences that made such a wonderfully deep connection. Marie’s intention when writing this tale was for her reader to learn something, whether it is about themselves or the story. Though the outcomes seemingly differ as the three characters--Milun, the women, and their son--are reunited and live happily ever after, my story is not over. Through my life experience and emotions of love, motherhood, and separation, I have learned that patience and time heal all.
An impulse of affection and guardianship drew Niel up the poplar-bordered road in the early light [. . .] and on to the marsh. The sky was burning with the soft pink and silver of a cloudless summer dawn. The heavy, bowed grasses splashed him to the knees. All over the marsh, snow-on-the-mountain, globed with dew, made cool sheets of silver, and the swamp milk-weed spread its flat, raspberry-coloured clusters. There was an almost religious purity about the fresh morning air, the tender sky, the grass and flowers with the sheen of early dew upon them. There was in all living things something limpid and joyous-like the wet morning call of the birds, flying up through the unstained atmosphere. Out of the saffron east a thin, yellow, wine-like sunshine began to gild the fragrant meadows and the glistening tops of the grove. Neil wondered why he did not often come over like this, to see the day before men and their activities had spoiled it, while the morning star was still unsullied, like a gift handed down from the heroic ages.
All children need love to help them grow and flourish. If a child lacks the sense of a loving parent to child bond, it can result in them feeling unloved. Lily often times feels unloved as a result of her father's abusive and neglectful behavior towards her. Lily decides to run away with Rosaleen, who for much of Lily’s life, has been the one to care for her. Lily and Rosaleen find themselves at the home of the Boatwright sisters. Throughout her time staying with the Boatwrights, Lily is being greatly cared for by the sisters including May Boatwright, the youngest sister. Through May and Rosaleen’s actions, Lily comes to realize that there is love all around her. “And there they were. All these mothers.I have more mothers than any eight girls off the street. They are the moons shining over me,” (Kidd 302). Lily views these women as her mother figures because they show her that they love her. Having insight on how Lily perceives these women, it is clear that she is very grateful for how much love they provide her. Lily is appreciative towards May and Rosaleen, through their major and minor acts as Lily’s mother. They help to fill the place of a loving parent that she needs since her mother is not able to do so. May and Rosaleen give Lily the love she needs much like how Mother Teresa loves and cares for the poor children in developing nations who many times do not have a stable family life. “Mother Teresa’s ministry was centered on love. She cared for the poor’s physical needs, but her main focus was on loving them. Mother Teresa’s life exemplified the meaning of love and of giving. She encouraged all people to give not only tangible gifts such as money, food, and clothing but also the intangible gifts of ourselves, such as a smile or a caring ear.” Mother Teresa is a huge mother figure to thousands of children around the world who lack the love need. Therefore, through the actions of these minor
When this tale is looked at from a deeper perspective, it is learned that the mothers wish is to be loved and not have to worry about her child that has come in the way of her and her
The short story, "Suzy and Leah," by Jane Yolen, is about two girls who have different views about each other. Each girl documents their feelings towards the other in their diaries. At first the girls didn’t get along, but after reading each other’s diaries, they got to know each other better and their relationship changed. Throughout the diary writing, both girls learn to see things from another perspective.
Maya Angelou is well known today for her poetry. She is a very inspirational woman that poems speak to many young women still today. Maya Angelou is one of those people that everyone loves and not many could ever have anything negative to say. She went through hard times as a child that later made her a better poet.
Looking back on the death of Larissa’s son, Zebedee Breeze, Lorraine examines Larissa’s response to the passing of her child. Lorraine says, “I never saw her cry that day or any other. She never mentioned her sons.” (Senior 311). This statement from Lorraine shows how even though Larissa was devastated by the news of her son’s passing, she had to keep going. Women in Larissa’s position did not have the luxury of stopping everything to grieve. While someone in Lorraine’s position could take time to grieve and recover from the loss of a loved one, Larissa was expected to keep working despite the grief she felt. One of the saddest things about Zebedee’s passing, was that Larissa had to leave him and was not able to stay with her family because she had to take care of other families. Not only did Larissa have the strength to move on and keep working after her son’s passing, Larissa and other women like her also had no choice but to leave their families in order to find a way to support them. As a child, Lorraine did not understand the strength Larissa must have had to leave her family to take care of someone else’s
Irene’s mom was becoming sick very fast, and could not eat the food that Irene saved her. One cold and snowy day, Irene was looking for the scarf that they still owned so she could go do her work, but it was wrapped around her mother because she was cold. Olga then told Irene that their mom was dead. Their mother’s body lay alongside hundreds of other bodies. Later, her sister became very sick and weak, and could not walk.
Derricotte’s conclusive paragraph begins with, “My mother helps me. She sends me signs: her African violet bloomed for the first time on my windowsill three years after her death, on the first day of her death month…I love my mother now in ways I could not have loved her when she was alive, fierce, terrifying, unpredictable, mad, shame-inducing, self-involved, relentless, and determined by any means necessary” (53). The timing of her love for her mother became insignificant. It wasn’t about when she finally reached the point of loving her mother but the mere fact that she loved her. The utilization of descriptive writing and the emotional implementation in “Beginning Dialogues” are a couple of ways Derricotte enraptures her readers in this short story. Regardless of a painful past or a traumatic childhood she allows herself to see that love truly conquers
By the time Julie returned her grandmother was ever so lightly snoring. The look of gratification and appreciation of Julie’s previously stern face melted my heart and again my eyes welled with tears. The fence Julie had built around her heart slowly disintegrated as she observed the bond I had developed with her “mom”. With a quivering voice, Julie revealed the stress and emotional turmoil of watching this devastating disease imprison the only mother she had ever known.
As the first rays of the sun peak over the horizon, penetrating the dark, soft light illuminates the mist rising up from the ground, forming an eerie, almost surreal landscape. The ground sparkles, wet with dew, and while walking from the truck to the barn, my riding boots soak it in. The crickets still chirp, only slower now. They know that daytime fast approaches. Sounds, the soft rustling of hooves, a snort, and from far down the aisle a sharp whinny that begs for breakfast, inform me that the crickets are not the only ones preparing for the day.
The Narrator’s family treats her like a monster by resenting and neglecting her, faking her death, and locking her in her room all day. The Narrator’s family resents her, proof of this is found when the Narrator states “[My mother] came and went as quickly as she could.
Her mother’s beauty was everlasting until she died at 81 years old. Also, she talked about how she stopped taking her medication and then gradually got better. She had been off drugs for 21 days. So now she could be able to do much more. All that she wanted was to make her husband happy and see how the church she liked and the preacher who would talk to her.