Make your own free website on Tripod.com
Follows song "Where Is My Home"
READER : Entries 16 thru 18

It's quiet here for a change. Others are out looking for work that someone with no address can get. I felt too ill to go. The gym feels like a troubled Mother wondering why her children have forgotten and strayed. I sit under the skylight to feel the sunlight and try to explain it isn't her fault. The floors are scuffed and littered. The bronze shine gone. Sandy and I can't keep up anymore. We're too tired and it doesn't stay clean long anyway. Trying to enforce order is prison surveillance - something without end. It's back to the Thrift Shop and sandwiches. Yesterday they took the old man to the hospital. We went to visit him last night. Today - he was gone - gone - gone. We couldn't find out where. Rick has gone to check the city's morgue. He had no people but us I guess.



(17)

The old man was buried by the state. We had no way to get to the place - it's outside the city. Rick and Warren talk of going somewhere else. No sun-belt - too many go there. We might go to farm country. It's raining cold autumn rain again. Rick says there are probably farmers on hard times who could use some help. We would work for a safe place to sleep and some food. Even some farm Mothers might need help with children and chores. The rain is monotonous like our days have become. I mix time all up. It's not anything clear anymore - just a thing that stretches and ripples like worn elastic. I don't see an end - but then I no longer expect one. The rain makes you sleepy like wanting a long long sleep. Now and then clouds part and a sun-ray slips through the skylight. The question is - would farmers trust us ? There's no way to know but to try. Distrust is common now. But you can't really blame people today. Sad assessment of the times.



(18)

We got more coats from the Thrift Shop. The old ones were stolen. No sleeping bags though. Ours are coming apart but still some comfort. We had enough cash for cheese - bread - and juice in cardboard containers. Mario the musician came with us. Scooter said leave word at the town store wherever we stopped and he would find us. He knew the route we planned. He wants to try to find an old friend on the coast. It's good to see open country again.. I love the smell of turned soil and wood smoke from chimneys. We planned our route to go by where the old man was buried. The ground was bare with a crust of new frost. We left the smiling sun for him and offered our thanks. We're so empty there's not much to give. Mario played and we sang for him. Rick left an old medal on a ribbon he had found at the Thrift Shop. I don't know what it meant when it was made - but I know what it meant when we left it. Somewhere I think he knew. I feel he understood. When we left - sunlight had scattered overcast at last.



Followed by songs: (Mario) "Soloing Soldier" and
(Sandy) "What Do You Say ?"
Followed by Reader: Entries 19 thru 20