The Old Mill Chapter 2

Chapter 2 The seasons turn and the year grows colder. The burnt-out cooker is gone, and they eat outside for now. Alone with the daybreak child, strength tells her of his plans for the day, the surprise he is going to give to hope and joy when they return. First he cleans. He works on my floor until all the marks from the fire are gone, but he doesn’t stop there. He doesn’t have the right sort of paint for the fridge, or the time for the windows as hope and joy will be home soon. But strength hopes that this will be enough to lift their hearts. It lifts mine. He cooks outside, in the last of the day’s light, to be ready for them when they return. Hope is so happy, she almost cries. I have seen this before, many times. The firelight warms the room, and strength smiles at hope, and joy drums a rhythm to her parents’ delight. And the red papers are dealt with again. I can feel the happiness coming back into the home. The sink sprays water everywhere, but they laugh as strength repairs it and hope mops the clean, clean floor. In the other room, joy plays with a new toy. She, too, laughs as her parents laugh. Upstairs, the daybreak child sleeps peacefully. You are my hero, hope says, and kisses strength. The daybreak child is no longer a baby. And her sister has grown taller, her hair longer. Winter is here, and they feel the cold. This time, the papers are only yellow. I think this is good, for hope smiles as she writes. They have a new cooker – no need to cook outside in this snow. The holes within me are being healed. The new wood smells clean and good. And new bedrooms are being built, above the fireplace against the warmth of the chimney stack. There is plenty of wood around to keep the fire burning. My old walls grow warm at that end of the room. The stone holds the heat and gently gives it back. The seasons turn and spring has come. Strength helps the daybreak child learn to walk. The joy child plays, talks, walks, will be grown older so soon now. And inside hope another child is forming, made from the love that grows ever stronger between hope and strength. Another child is coming into the world. Into my world. Into the embrace of his family and my strong walls. Another loved and wanted child. The wanted child is hugged and soothed. I hear hope’s voice singing a lullaby to him, telling him he is loved and cared for, and he doesn’t need to be afraid. I would sing too, if I had a voice.