*NOTE: I found this quote and intended to write a poem, but as things happen when writing, my hand took over with a mind of its own and this is the resulting story …
“… a drop of free water … “
She found herself once again at the ruins of the spring. It still flowed but the housing that surrounded the free-flowing water had been damaged during the ‘resistance’. Those looking for fresh clean water destroyed the protective rock well housing when to them the sulfur tasting water was determined undrinkable…so they tried to ruin the spring. In reality, the sulfur smelling and tasting water had curative qualities first discovered by the Indians calling this area home hundreds of years ago. But, for those panicking when water no longer flowed from their home taps didn’t trust any water source that smelled or tasted ‘off’.
When she was a child, the spring fed a large pool with sparkling blue water. That pool was fed by the spring that flowed into the pool and keeping a constant water level by flowing freely out the opposite side through a flue pouring into the adjoining creek. The water was a constant 72 degrees that took the breath away with the first plunge. She swam in the icy water often and her father built the still standing bridge over the creek.
Before the ‘resistance’ she still spent hot summer days floating in that cold water – a special treat on 100 plus summer days. The pool was gone … another victim of the raiders, but the spring still flowed and created it’s own path to the creek. Nothing could turn off nature. There was no on/off switch to flip that stopped the water. Water of all kinds will find a path of its own and the spring was no exception.
All the huge oak and pecan trees were gone. Chopped down long ago to feed fires of the … not homeless … but houseless … those houses ripped apart by the government extremists making sure the people were robbed of every tiny of piece of their humanity. No one had electricity or gas even before the houses were destroyed so people used any available wood to start fires at temporary camps as they wandered aimlessly through the land … without hope … trying to survive. No one was here at the spring right now. All the wood was gone and they wouldn’t drink the water … so the wanderers moved on leaving their mark of destruction on this sacred place.
She was lucky to have a house and a deep water well topped by a creaky old-fashioned windmill to bring that precious water to the surface. There was a garden plot, a few chickens and a good milk cow … her life was hard but so much better than most. She took in the old and sick making sure they were safe, and fed. Others found their way to her and as a result created a community where everyone pulled their own weight to survive.
Today she was an hour from home. A trip once made comfortably and quickly when there were cars. Her community was fortunate to have a young strong horse and a good-sized wagon. She and some of the young ones who found their way to her community took all day to forage. The wagon was piled high with things they found along the way that would be used to make their life a bit easier or passed on to others that were in need. She asked to be left alone at the spring for a while. No explanation … no questions … just acceptance as they continued looking for anything that could be used.
Hearing their strong young voices singing she knew it was time to begin the return trip … a trip that would take well into the night. No one in her community had any family but they were creating a redefining what family meant for the future.
The young ones called her ‘Sweet Mama’ … ironic since should was never able to have children of her own. They created a wonderful padded be in the wagon and insisted she rest on the trip home. Our wagon turned northwest and followed the setting sun for home.
Copyright © 2017 Annie
Always…I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you Love.
As Ever, Annie