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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2096571
Rated: E · Fiction · Drama · #2096571
Violet lived life on the edge. No one would get the best her... No one except herself.
The room poorly lit, the air stale and at moments,stifling. A woman of advanced years reclines on the bed, laying beneath a heavy comforter. Despite the warmth of the room her small frame quivered, and her skin felt cool to the touch.

She heard them speaking... Those who stood or sat about her, but she couldn't make out their words. Curt in her ways at times, she wanted to demand that they speak up, but the words would not form on her lips.

She listened intently to the world around her instead.

It was raining, she was sure of that, for the sound of the drops beat against the roof and window. "Why did I not enjoy the rain more? I could have danced in it more... walked in it more... Oh, to feel the cool drops now... maybe it would bring me back ... refresh me... revive me. Silly old fool that I am. Violet, my dear let's get a grip." The elderly woman thought to herself.

While her body failed her, the elderly woman's mind was still sharp, and her emotions were ever so real. And at the moment... the wave of feelings washed over her like a raging river overflowing its mudded banks. Her heart felt as if it were breaking, it was then she began to pray, for it was all she had left to cling to. She knew her time left on earth was fleeting.

"Oh dear God, how has it taken me this moment to realize what a petulant life I have lived. Even in my best moments I now realize how utterly vain they were. Help me... My body has imprisoned me, and my words fall mute on my lips. I am surrounded by the ones I have claimed to love, and at this moment I realize I have failed them in every way. I am left only with an ocean of regret."

As Violet lay motionless, a soft breeze wafted over her. She heard a silent voice, oh so very clearly, as if someone had whispered in her deaf ear. "Oh my child... my petulant child. You have not always taken the road I had laid before you. So many times you have chosen to take paths that were not meant for you. Many of those pathways were rugged and perilous, so much heartbreak, so much needless pain. But in the moments you lived your purpose, there were many blessings, and much affection. I have loved you through it all, and now you begin the final journey home, and I will welcome you with open arms."

Violet's breathing became less laborious, and the younger woman in the room took note that Violet seemed to unclench her fists as her palms turned upwards, a simple change in position, but it was well noted as others glanced over.

Her mind drifted beyond the present and into an much early time in her life...

It was 1932 in Bellingham Washington, the country was in the throes of the great depression. The locals, as well as the entire country was hit hard with the harsh reality of every day life. The fortunate ones still found themselves employed, yet even then... their weekly pay was never certain. Many found themselves bartering for goods and services, and if not that many were standing in long lines with a rationing ticket in hand.
At 7 years old Violet Kenney the 9th child of 12 siblings born to Leo and Margaret Kenney fell in the most destitute of the citizens of the times.
© Copyright 2016 Chasing Grace (treelynn at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2096571