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Show Moon - 205 At night in the sleeping compartment she surrendered to the rocking and the rhythmic clicks, pillows all around her holding her cradled, contained. Joy used to curl up next to her like a little spoon. Her hair smelled like grass. She should not have yanked the girl around the country like that, except she was so needing to please James and to get away from her mother. And it was better for Joy, she was sure of it, the times she got her away from Ruth. She herself had not been a good mother, especially not to Joy, but there'd been a little progress, a movement upon the generations, a fire hidden deep away from the wind. She decided finally to think about her mother. It was safe enough in this cradle, where any sadness that might well up out of nowhere would disappear in the there-there of the tracks. Ruth did not love her. There. She'd finally said it. She held this truth up to the moon-washed clouds rushing by the window and it wasn't so bad. She tried to remember if Ruth had ever held her, kissed her. She must have early on. She didn't remember that Ruth had listened to her. Ruth was strong, a survivor. This must have taken all of her strength, used up the power that might have otherwise been drained away by love. To survive required that she feel nothing for her body and nothing for anyone else's body, that she always have a dustrag in her hand and a vacuum under Father's feet, and that she safeguard them all from the drafts that preyed on the house like wolves. The moon broke through the clouds, a perfect circle. She remembered another thing: Ruth sang to her, Shepherd show me how to go. This was a good thing to remember. Her mother sang, and perhaps that made up for many things. It was all right. It was enough. |