Thursday, September 27, 2012

Who was Annie Wright ? Part Three

Welcome back to the Inn.... if you remember this is where we left off in Part Two. Take the time to read this latest entry to this  on-going story telling blog.

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Sitting down in the rocking chair, she began to read the mysterious words her mother had written so long ago...... A woman's life is never as it seems, for we are the keeper's of many secrets........................

Bess has read these lines many times since finding the old manuscript. Her mother had written in on the first page. Bess recognised the writing for it was the same way her mother had signed all her birthday cards and  wrote her notes for school. Yet she wondered what she meant by  the keeper's of many secrets. What had her mother kept hidden from her and her family? She had always been so open about everything, so understanding of everyone else's choices, even when they were questionable.

 Like when Julie Smith had left her husband to go to Tibet on some sort of pilgrimage. Everyone else said she was crazy and that she was probably involved with some man that she had met at work.  Her mother had told her to never judge another person's decisions, for everyone was struggling through some sort of issues and the choices they made, surely seemed right to them. She had always said that to judge others was to expect to be judged in return.  Bess had heard these words over and over again in her youth and had held herself back from many discussions when co-workers sat around gossiping.  She had learned her lessons well.

Turning the page she began to read again the words her mother had written.....

It was the spring of 1956, when I first seen him.   I had been busy hanging clothes out on the line. It was a beautiful day in April and the sun  was shining. There was a warm  breeze that brought the promise of warmer days ahead. The snow had melted and the mud around the back veranda was slowly beginning to dry up.  I had  got up early to get the laundry started as  I wanted to make sure to get it hung out early so that it would dry. There was nothing like watching well sorted clothes blowing in the wind. I had always taken pride in  sorting out the laundry so that everything matched. My mother had  taught me well to hang the whites with the whites and sort through the sizes so that it looked as if it was hung with care.

As I put the clothespin on  the last  facecloth, I heard a truck drive in the yard.   I steppped down off the clothesline stand and walked towards the front of the house.  A young man was  walking up my front steps with a parcel in his hands.  He was about to knock on the door when I said hello. Turing around I came face to face with a man that would change my life forever.................


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