A storybook moment

And there she was a quiet English woman, made beautiful and clever into herself but not that anyone saw it. They pushed her around like she was a cart about to topple. She yearned to be free that she could breathe but no one saw the fire in her eyes.

She plunged from one dire situation into another and wound up the submissive bride of a mute who abused her with his thickheaded ways. And so did his parents with their cunning. She had a baby and guarded the infant with her life and thought that one day she and her beloved child would escape into the rainbow.

She dreamt dreams but years later from having read about her as a teen, I forget what they were. I remember that she was likeable...lovely to the heart.

I know that one day, friends did help her escape the loveless union and she had had a few adventures along the way. As the pages drew to a close, she found a cottage in the wide open space of the countryside, closer to her dream which now, as I say, I forget.

I believe she yearned to fly, to travel in an aeroplane.

And then one day she met a pilot the kind, she knew she would love her whole life. By then, she had collected a tiny coterie of foster children...and the book ended on that whimsical note of a carefree dance.

The man pays a visit with his wife. He promises to take her and her little brood someday soon for a ride in the plane. Both fill her home with love. She returns this favour with sincerity. Her love for him is serene, spiritual, silent.

She is grateful for any understanding and accepts all.

Peace orchestrates the end.

The book closes even as the reader realises wonderful things will happen to this character, as the pages troop on, decked in their mysterious invisibility.
- susan abraham.

(This is my hazy memory of a storybook moment inspired yesterday by writer and poet, Jason Evan's Innovative Post 'Glue' .

The British fiction was titled The Rose but I have long forgotten the name of its authoress.