Judgement. Confusion. Incredulity. Their eyes speak as I pass. Desperation mutes the noise as the storm intensifies. My feet strain as the dirt road turns into a river. My sweater heavy with defeat against rain and wind.
The looks intensify at my lone figure walking. I read the common question and the answer is no, I am not crazy. The cold shaking my body shows otherwise. Who would be out in this storm? Everyone else has taken shelter.
It seems that I have been struggling for hours but I know it can’t be more than 30 minutes. I shift the bundle to my other hand and push on.
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The rain falls so heavily that I no longer see faces, only blurry figures under cover. It is a small relief from the their noise. The bundle I carry more so, as its importance is heavier than its weight. In my hand is hope, salvation, joy and comfort.
I smile and then laugh. Their eyes must be smug in the certainty of my madness. I do not care because they do not know what I carry.
My numb feet fail and I fall, laughing even harder. It’s OK. Everything will be OK. My children will eat today.
