Winding down (part 1)
Jul. 25th, 2009 10:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eustaciavye77Lyrics in quotes taken from Patrick Wolf's "Thickets"
“JUST A LITTLE FURTHER UP THE HILL BOY
YOU’LL BE HOME SOON ENOUGH”
She can still remember him as a hardy grey haired moustached man who walked her through town calling to his friends "Look, my granddaughter's come for the summer!" He would decry with pride her superior intelligence and beauty. In the pub he let her sip his beer and chuckled as her cheeks puckered from the taste. When she knew enough to play in public, they would duet at sessions, her on fiddle and him on bodhran. Sometimes her grandmother would join them, sometimes it was just papa and his little girl. She knew he was "old" whatever that meant.
"All along the river
Pedaling fast as I could
Watch
As the wasteland flowers
Old cars and rubbish flourish
With blackberries and red berries"
When his nana died, Kaden was 14. Papa was 75. Nana had been sick for years but made it through their 50th wedding anniversary before succumbing to the cancer. At the funeral, Papa held Kaden's hand in his left and his son Patrick (Kaden's father) in his right. His body shook wracked with sobs. Kaden resisted the urge to recoil in fear from Papa's grief.
****
To be continued a lot. This one is presenting a challenge to write. Not the most cheerful bit of story. Also it is early and writer brain isn't totally online yet. I promise it'll get better.
If you feel so moved to donate: http://www.blogathon.org/pledge.php?blogid=69
e-mail me or comment here if you want me to do a proxy pledge for you.
“JUST A LITTLE FURTHER UP THE HILL BOY
YOU’LL BE HOME SOON ENOUGH”
She can still remember him as a hardy grey haired moustached man who walked her through town calling to his friends "Look, my granddaughter's come for the summer!" He would decry with pride her superior intelligence and beauty. In the pub he let her sip his beer and chuckled as her cheeks puckered from the taste. When she knew enough to play in public, they would duet at sessions, her on fiddle and him on bodhran. Sometimes her grandmother would join them, sometimes it was just papa and his little girl. She knew he was "old" whatever that meant.
"All along the river
Pedaling fast as I could
Watch
As the wasteland flowers
Old cars and rubbish flourish
With blackberries and red berries"
When his nana died, Kaden was 14. Papa was 75. Nana had been sick for years but made it through their 50th wedding anniversary before succumbing to the cancer. At the funeral, Papa held Kaden's hand in his left and his son Patrick (Kaden's father) in his right. His body shook wracked with sobs. Kaden resisted the urge to recoil in fear from Papa's grief.
****
To be continued a lot. This one is presenting a challenge to write. Not the most cheerful bit of story. Also it is early and writer brain isn't totally online yet. I promise it'll get better.
If you feel so moved to donate: http://www.blogathon.org/pledge.php?blogid=69
e-mail me or comment here if you want me to do a proxy pledge for you.
