(Photo: Juho S on Unsplash)
She had promised herself to never revisit those times. The best forgotten ones. And yet there she was, a small child in her lap, embers glowing in the hearth, the dog worrying a burnt crust, and her mind meandering down memory lane.
“I was where I am when the snow began,” she started.
The child shifted a knobby knee into a rib, and a cold replaced the sweet weight in her lap. Stolen coals, they were then. Collected under pain worse than whipping if she was discovered yet at the risk of frostbite and no dinner if she did not. She’d secreted an apron-full before the snow began, coating the path, incriminating every footprint.
For the payment, she bore scars.
“I was where I am,” she pushed an unneeded log into the fire. Just because. “Yet now the snow scares me none.”
Prosery prompt: “I was where I am
When the snow began”
From “The Dead of Winter” by Samuel Menashe. Full poem here.
Na'ama Yehuda 
Such a poignant story Na’ama
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Thank you, Sadje. I think I am holding on to the possibilities of resilience these days. … Thank you for the comment!
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You’re most welcome
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In a way, some memories are good memories…
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Yes, some are, even if they are no fun in the remembering … the contrast to what has been lived in spite of and through and above and beyond since, can be a source of strength.
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I agree…
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So good to see you here, Na’ama! Such a poignant story. I suppose that sort of trauma never goes away. But I’m glad she survived and has a better life.
(Should “cold” in the third paragraph be “coal”?)
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Thank you, Merril! Yes, looking back from a place of survival, even perhaps thriving, is an important vantage point.
Interesting question about the word choice – it was not a typo, as I was thinking of the memory turning the weight on her apron from the warmth of the room to the cold of then which required her collecting what must have been cold lumps of coal, in the cold, in hope of a fire. But … I can see how the word “coal” might’ve been less vague and could immediately transport into the weight of the coal in her apron. Good one!
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You’re welcome, Na’ama! Thank you for joining in.
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What a terrible memory to bear, but it sounds like she is in a much better place now.
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Yes, I would like to think that she indeed is in a much much better place!
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This is beautiful writing, my friend. A story of strength and resilience and proof that a woman will do anything she needs to, to take care of her babies.
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Yes! And, many women, as girls, did anything they needed to do, to make it to where they may have more choices. Here’s to resilience. And thank you, my friend! xx
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That is so very true.
Here’s to them all! xoxo
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Amen! Xx
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💞
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