Evie, Part One

She had been running for what felt like ages. Her entire body ached, her heart pounded, and her head throbbed from exhaustion.  But she couldn't stop. She wouldn't stop.  Suddenly, a tiny light appeared ahead of her.  It seemed a great distance between her and the light, and for a few minutes it did not get any closer.  She felt her feet begin to stumble. Slowing her pace she corrected her steps and sped up again.  The light began getting closer and bigger.  She had never wanted anything more in her life than to stand in the light. She was running harder than ever.  Faster and faster, until finally she was immersed in a blinding light.  All her exhaustion and hurt melted away, and she was never happier than in that moment.  But then the moment passed and the fatigue and pain came storming back to her.  She collapsed into a pile on the ground.  She couldn't move, even breathing hurt.  She tried to lie still to ease the pain, but that hurt, too.  All she felt was pain.  All she wanted was to be in a warm bed, and to sleep for days.  However, all her effort, all that running, was in vain.  In her fragile state, she had forgotten, even only for a few moments, of what she was running from.  Suddenly she remembered, and picking herself up was the hardest thing she ever had to do.  But she did it, and kept on going.  Soon she found a shelter hewn out of the rock and decided to stay there for a while.  She didn't dare light a fire, but she was safe enough to get some sleep. She laid down beside a large rock in order to sufficiently hide herself from onlookers.  For many minutes she laid awake, trying to keep herself alert despite her exhaustion.  Eventually her eye lids became too heavy and an unrestful sleep overcame her.

On a bright and sunny day, a small child played with her big sister in a field near their home.  A home that they shared with their father and older brother.  Her mother left about a year before, and they never really knew what had become of her.  It was certainly an uncommon thing to happen in those parts, but it happened nonetheless.  At first they thought she may have been kidnapped or killed, that is until the letter came.  They had received a letter from her just a few weeks after she disappeared.  It said that she wanted to travel the world and be more than just a farmer's wife.  She wanted adventure and excitement.  Father wouldn't even finish reading the letter. He stopped after she said she wanted to travel, and then he worked outside for the rest of the day. He talked about her seldom, and never very lovingly.  It made Evie wonder if her mother hadn't left for good reason.  Her father was not a mean man, but he was not a kind man either.  He was cold and stiff, but virtuous and always provided for his family.  Evie loved her father, but he was not someone that she wanted to stay with forever.   

Evie was laying in the field looking up at the sky while her sister Rose played with the dandelions.  Rose was a particularly peculiar child.  She was immensely smart and had a wild imagination.  Evie, who was quite smart herself, but maybe not as smart as Rose, had a sensible perspective on life.  She did not have the vivid imagination that belonged to her sister.  She was more practical and realistic.  Their older brother, Roger, was stern and stoic.  He always followed the rules no matter what, and he never played silly games.  He was a kind-natured boy, but never really had any fun.  His mother left to have fun, so what use could it be?  

Evie and Rose spent most of their time together.  They had become quite close over the last year, helping each other cope with their loss.  Rose had always hoped they could venture out and find her someday.  Evie was less enthusiastic about this idea.  They never even mentioned it to Roger or their father.  But often in their field they would talk about what it would be like to see her again, and where she might be or what she might be doing.  Today they were doing just that.  "I wonder if she's famous somewhere," Rose said while picking the dandelions.  "I bet these would look nice in a big house where she lives."

"I doubt she has a big house.  And she's not famous.  We certainly would have heard something about her if she was," Evie explained.  "Besides, she has nothing to live on."

"I'm sure she has something.  She can't just be sleeping anywhere with nowhere to live."

"Well, maybe she is.  We'll probably never know."

"Oh, we'll find her one day.  And then we'll know."

"All right, sure." 

Evie struggled to not make her sister sad, but also to not get her hopes up.  She wanted to have hope, too, but she couldn't imagine that she'd ever see her mother again.  Or that she even wanted to see her again.

Before she realized it, two figures were walking towards the sisters through the field.  They moved smoothly and swiftly, almost gliding, and were odd-looking.  One was quite tall and lanky, and the other was short and stout.  They wore dark shabby clothes and each carried in one hand a strange hat.  Evie had never seen hats like these, and she couldn't figure out where these men had come from.  She was frightened, but did not want to scare Rose, so she remained calm.  

"Excuse me," said the short man with a high-pitched voice.  "Where might we find a place to stay around here?"

"Oh, um..." Evie hesitated.  "I'm...I'm not exactly sure.  I think there's a place about 10 miles south. Or southeast.  I'm not entirely sure of it's location."

"Nothing closer than that?" the short man asked.

"No, I don't think so," Evie replied.

"Is your father at home?" the taller man asked in a grumbly voice.

"Um...uh, yes, I...yes, he is."

"May we speak with him then? Maybe he can give us better direction," the taller man said.  There was something about these men that made Evie uneasy.  She couldn't quite tell what it was. Maybe their strange appearance, or maybe their greasy manners, or maybe even the fact that they had no problem approaching two young girls in the middle of nowhere.  

"Certainly," Evie glanced at Rose uneasily.  "You can follow me. C'mon, Rose."

The two men followed Evie back to her house, which was a good 7 or 8 minute walk from the field.  No one said a word on the way, although Evie wanted to say something to break the awkwardness, but she didn't. She was too afraid.  Finally they reached the house.  She called out to her father and sent Rose inside to her room.  Her father came outside and greeted the men with obvious unease.  He gave them directions to an inn, but they continued to talk for several minutes.  Evie wished she could hear what was being said.  She barely noticed her brother walk out onto the porch.  She even jumped when he asked what was going on.  

"You startled me," she exclaimed.  "I guess these two men are lost or on a journey or something.  They need a place to stay."

"Certainly don't like the looks of them. Where do they come from?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't like them either."

"Can't be too careful these days."

"Yeah. Maybe they're..."

"Let's not speculate.  Let's just send them on their way and forget about it."

But their father was not sending them on their way.  In fact it seemed more like he was inviting them to stay.  "Children, these men are going to stay with us tonight.  Go and get dinner ready.  Evie, you and Rose will have to give up your room.  You can sleep in Roger's room on the floor.  Mr. Coakley," he gestured to the tall man, "and Mr. Brant are welcome to stay with us as long as they need to."

It was very unlike their father to invite guests over, especially strangers, but Evie did not argue.  She quietly went inside to fix dinner, feeling nervous as ever.  

May Their Memories Be Eternal

It seems ages ago that the two towers fell on 9/11, but then again, it seems hardly any time has passed at all.  It sounds weird to say it was 10 years ago.  What a long time, and yet what a short time. That's not even half of my life.
I had just turned twelve in 2001, just a few days before 9/11.  I remember being in school already sitting in choir when people started talking about it, starting say that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. As a twelve year old, I didn't know what that was or where it was, but it sounded important. I remember thinking to myself what a weird thing to happen. So far it sounded like an accident from what people around school were saying, but it didn't seem like such a thing could happen on accident. Then we left choir and I headed to French class. We did not study French that day. The TV was on and immediately I saw what was going on.  "ATTACK ON AMERICA" was the headline in enormous letters across the bottom of the screen.  I was horrified.  We watched the news all throughout class and witnessed the second plane hitting the second tower, we watched the anchors tell us about the plane that hit the Pentagon, and the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania due to the bravery of its passengers.
Now of course only being in middle school, when my classmates and I saw "ATTACK ON AMERICA" we assumed it could be an attack everywhere.  We were scared it would hit other parts of the country, and maybe even our region or city.  My french teacher, who was a wonderful lady, Mme. Milstead, assured us that we not get hit. "Nashville would only be a target if the people who did this really hated country music." I gasped, and she laughed.  Then I realized it was only a joke to make a point, that we were fine.
But the people in the planes, in the towers, on the streets of New York, in the Pentagon, the police officers and firefighters were not fine.  I can't imagine what it was like being there dealing with the dust and debris and bodies that littered the streets, trying to save everyone possible.
My cousin, Stepha, in her blog Life of Fiction, wrote about 9/11 too. She mentioned that she feels like God was with those people that day.  And that she doesn't know how, but it comforts her to think that.  I watched a show the other day about two port authority employees who saved about 70 people as they descended the North Tower, but were killed when the tower collapsed.  That shows me that God was with them that day.  On ESPN they were talking about a young man who worked in the towers (but who wanted instead to become a firefighter) and how he saved 12 people before dying himself.  They were able to find his body because he always carried a red bandana and the people he saved remembered his red bandana. His family knew what he did because of that bandana.  God was with him that day.
As you can imagine watching those shows, I wept until I could barely see.  Watching the towers fall is an image that I will never forget.  Who knew I could still cry for complete strangers ten years later.
Shortly after the attacks on 9/11, a family friend who lives in New York sent us an email telling her story of 9/11.  She worked near the WTC and was out on the street when one of the towers fell.  She was thrust into a cloud of dust and debris, no way to see anything.  But she guided herself along a building until she found a door and she burst through, coughing up debris and dust as she sucked in clean air.  All I could think while reading her email was how frightening it must have been.  After a few hours she made it to a friends to clean up and eventually made it back home to her boyfriend.  Obviously, she was one of the lucky ones.
So on this the 10th anniversary of the attacks on 9/11 I remember and pray for those who died, those who survived, those who were lucky, those who weren't, and especially those who fought to save others- the first responders and the employees who helped their coworkers at the cost of their own life.  I remember the passengers on Flight 93 who so bravely fought the hijackers and gave their lives for it, and for those who died in the Pentagon attack as well.  May their memories be eternal and I pray that they are now with God where they will suffer no more.

Please, Please Me...

So I've been lazy and missed a couple of Fridays' worth of posts. But I'm back now, and I'll begin with a couple songs from Please Please Me, which was the Beatles debut album.

The first song is the title track, "Please Please Me". Written by John Lennon, the song was an hommage to Roy Orbison. It was released on March 22, 1963. I love this live version I found.

The second song is from the same album, and it's called "PS I Love You". It was written by Paul McCartney and first released on the B side of "Love Me Do". What an adorable song!

My third and final song of the day is one from a later album of the Beatles. "Eight Days a Week" is the eighth track on their album Beatles for Sale, which was released on December 4th, 1964. It is a Lennon-McCartney creation and was their No. 7 hit in the US within a year. I've known this song for as long as I can remember and I completely adore it.