October 30, 1944 – Midnight
On the road to Athena’s Bluff
Whenever my mama found out I was reading or drawing down by the river, she would look up into the heavens and say, ‘Her spirit is willing, but her flesh is weak, Father.’ Not that God cared when I did my chores. I wasn’t sure if my spirit was willing to do any chores when I had something far better to do, like drawing. I’m not even sure why my mama’s words came to me at that very moment. That was an odd thing to think about as I slogged my way beyond the hospital and up the road leading to Athena’s Bluff. My flashlight was trying to light my way, but the rain was not making things easy.
I came to the crossroad. Do I go up the mountain or do I travel back into town? The idea of trudging up the mountain seemed like an insurmountable goal. I settled for going back into town and trying to get some sleep in my house. I just didn’t have the energy to move. Not up a mountain. The soles of my feet hurt, my body ached, and all I wanted was to stop and lie down in the nearest field. Even if there was a torrential dump of rain. I didn’t care.