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Show i4i she finished, he k i s s e d her and whispered in her ear. The hining in her eyes and the demure smile might have been reflected from my memory. I knew what she f e l t , what he had said. We sang another hymn, 'Love At Home' which was my favorite. A lump rose in my t h r o a t and I could only mouth words, could not make my voice flow into the shimmer of bright music that I, too, might be found - only a shining penney in the r i v e r of my family's love. 'There is beauty all around...when there's love at home.' The faces were as familiar as the curve of my own arms. They belonged in the anatomy of my soul. •There is joy in every sound...when there's love at home.' Their voices struck the taut strings of emotion like rind on wind-harp. 'Peace and plenty here abide...smiling sweet on every side.' Was there plenty - enough for me? The mothers smiled encouragingly at me. Their tender, glad looks echoed from my childhood and restrained me from a self-wrought doom. •Time doth softly, sweetly glide...when there's love at „ ^ronhonv of conflicting home.' Each moment was a sweet agony, a cacopn y v,on T had two homes and was at forces. How to love at home when I nao. xwu ~A mv father, too? Each home in neither? How to love Brian and my father, .p •+v, -hold me it could be day posed new problems. And yet faith xox done - must be done. „oot Ali the earth's a garden •Roses bloom beneath our feet, A^ • + t on the songbook although sweet.' My father's eyes were intern; u* TW heart. He hadn't noticed he knew every word of every verse by hear u.v. *Q+tPd calf, the celebration? me among the others. Where was the laxx , +p when there's love at home. •Making life a bliss complete...when |
