Photo: Crispina Kemp
It had been their favorite place to play as children. Filled with old tools and lopsided shelves. A leaky roof that hindered the rain from soaking them when the weather turned and they had misjudged the time.
She never would have thought that the shed would become a shelter from a lot worse than the rain. And without end. For there was no place to return.
There will be no welcome in the farmstead. Not anymore.
No warm soup waiting. No blanket. No fire to steam wet clothes as fingers thawed. Instead of comfort, they’d likely send the dogs.
She still could not quite understand how quickly times had changed. How she’d gone from part-of to pariah.
Was she the same? How could she be, when the patch she was made to wear now defined her?
A jew, she was their plague. How long would the shed conceal her?
For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge
Na'ama Yehuda 
Poignant and beautiful. 💔
Adele Ryan McDowell, Ph.D.
AdeleRyanMcDowell.com Adeleandthepenguin.com MakingPeacewithSuicide.com Channeledgrace.com
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Xoxo. Thank you, Adele!
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A timely reminder in these days of the virus. Lends perspective.
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Thank you. The persecution of this or that group is still a reality in all too many places, and even in supposedly ‘modern’ or ‘progressive’ countries. Duress and racist leadership fans the flames.
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Unfortunately, that’s true.
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Yes. Alas, humans had done such things and some still live in the lower-selves regions of little empathy.
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I can’t end this with a smile. That would be inappropriate
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I know. … We can understand each other without smiles, too.
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Yep
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Now I’m thinking of our conversation earlier this evening!
Well done, Missy!
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Thank you my friend! Here’s to caring for each other!
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Here’s to that!
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🙂
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