Here is a segment from a life long work. My goal is to get it published this Fall. So many years of research are now becoming the fulfillment of a story that haunted my family for generations. The biggest surprise of all to me was it turned out to be a story of redemption. I had a fascination with Nancy from the 1st time I heard her story told, and have come to love her and cherish her journey.
The fireplace cracked in the brisk morning air. Nancy’s old pale eyes flutter open. She has been quite ill for some time now. This morning however she feels energetic. Not only energy but a great peace has taken over her heart. Her mother described herself the same way only hours before she passed. Nancy now knew in her heart she too only had hours left. She had no desire to spend it in this stuffy room of the dead. She wanted laughter and communion with others in these her final hours. An idea fluttered through her head and she sat up tentatively. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and felt around for her house shoes with her feet. She sprung up with as much gusto as an eighty-eight-year-old woman could. Ignoring the cracking protests of her joints in every move. She made her way to the wardrobe against the wall and flung the doors wide. Her eyes were immediately drawn to her old scarlet party dress. She had not worn it twenty-five years. She pulled it from the wardrobe and shuffled back to the bed. Laying it out gently, she looked it over for tears and stains. She took the garment brush from her bed stand drawer and began to brush the dust off the dress. When she was happy with its appearance she began to disrobe from her night gown. As she was retrieving her corset from the wardrobe her daughter, Mary, came in the room a look of shock and horror crossed he face.
“Moehm! What are you doing out of bed? You cannot be up and about in your condition.” Glaring at her daughter’s presumption. “If dese are me dyin 'ooehrs I shall spend dem anyway I see fet. Last time I checked I was de moehm and you de daoehghter. So, dahn't you be presumin to tell me what to do ahr naht do. Now dahn't joehst stand dere gawkin girl 'elp me wit me stays” Nancy held them up to her daughter. Who huffed a few times through her teeth as she moved across the room and began to assist her mother. “Where is it you are planning on going in this frock Moehm?” Mary rolled her eyes and sighed. Nancy took a deep breath so as not to seam frustrated with the girl when she answered. “I want to spend me finial 'ooehrs in de land o' de livin wit de livin. I am goin down to Mcgenty's and make merry me last few 'ooehrs ahn earth. You are quiet welcomb to join me dear.” Near tears Mary turned her mother around and stared into her eyes. “Don’t you want your time you have left spent in peace?” Wiping the single tear from her daughters eyes she coed, “Mary me dear cheld. I'll 'ave an eternity o' peace in de arms o' me savior. Right now, while I draw breat I want to drenk, laoehgh, and cahmmune wit ahthers. Comb me dear, join me. Cahnsider it me dyin wesh to spend dis time wit you.” Nancy continued to help her mother dress. They went through a few more contentions over warm attire and slippers versus shoes. In the end Nancy got everything she wanted for her daughter did not wish to quarrel, especially if these were her Moehm’s final hours. Mary begged her mother to let her hitch up the wagon and horses to take them down the street to the pub. Nancy would not hear of it. She wanted to walk. She wanted to feel the cold breeze across her face. Nancy linked her arm through her daughters to lean on her as they walked. She deliberately went slow breathing in the smell of crisp spring air. She looked at her daughter Mary and said, “I feel dere is rain ahn de wend. Me bahnes in me nahse tell me dere is.” Mary looked sideways at her mother. “How can your bones in your nose tell you it’s going to rain?” Nancy grinned from deep within her soul. “Mary me cheld it is sahmethin felt in de sooehl naht joehst pecked oehp by de senses. De rain dat is combing is oehnlike any I've smelled sence me very early years. It's de smell o' de rain dat drenched oehs durin me father's funeral.” Mary stopped stunned by this revelation. Her mother always refused to talk about the old country and what happened there. Understanding her daughter's reaction she tightened her grip around Mary's arm and started moving forward again. "Comb dear and i'll answer all de questions you've ever 'ad. First I need to wet me whestle."
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