They're Coming

They’re coming.

           The whispers carried by the wind. The repeat of words started yesterday morning from the moment my bare feet touched the wooden planks of the wrapped around porch. The corn swayed slowly. Anticipation, knowing they would soon pick up their speed. Sounds of the horses shifting around the fields, anxiety fueling them. They knew, they knew just as well as I did what was to come. The clouds in the distance were dense, the light around the house shined bright for now. The blanket of clouds would take that away. Soon. Too soon.

           The pitter patter of little feet sounded from behind me. A hand wrapping around my finger giving a slight tug. Her bright blue eyes would be boring into me. Those beautiful eyes she adopted from her father. If only he was here, they wouldn’t be coming. They would leave us be, they would keep their distance. They knew what the consequences were. But no contact, no letters, no information of where he was or when he would come home, left us in the foreboding shadows.

           The war was bound to come, unfortunately we knew that. The day the papers came, he looked at me. The look of knowing all too well, he would be called upon, leaving us to fend for ourselves while he went God knows where to defend the great land we call home. The last letter received was over a month ago now. We sent one in return within the week. Concerns the officers would come bringing devastating news filled the house, weighing the air down.

           Another tug released me from my trance. I looked down, mustering a smile as best I could. Guiding her back into the house, setting her up in the chair for breakfast. Eggs, toast, and fresh bacon from one of the sows lay in front of her. Coffee was the choice for me. Hunger was gone, I felt nothing of the sorts. Thirst controlled me, coffee, water, and milk satisfied me for the time being.

           A bang sounded outside; my eyes snapped to see through the fogged window from grime. Something else to add to my list of things to do. The dust and dirt picking up from the fields created a layer. A goat was taking time to practice butting again. Lining up to go again with one of the poles surrounding them.

           The clouds were closer, too much to do before they would be here. Too little time. Another tug, this time my dress, I felt the hole in the side tear a little bit more. Another thing to fix around this place. I turned, her shoes were on her feet, and mine were in her hands. The plate behind her was polished off and the cup with remnants of milk sat beside it. Her head cocked to the side; a nod returned. Sliding my feet into my boots, we headed out to accomplish the never-ending tasks plaguing us.

           Night fell quickly and the clouds were almost here. By morning, they would be on top of us. The sounds of the restless animals in the barn through the open window next to my bed. Creeks of the old house moving with the wind called out in various parts.

           The nerves, the knowing of what’s coming, getting to me, all while she slept peacefully in her bed. No worries in the world aside from making sure the animals were happy, and her father was okay. The adolescent hopes and dreams occupying her mind. Mine was screaming at me, too many thoughts, too many fears, all flicking through, ready to explode out. The hope of tea helping the pain and pressure all while it did nothing at all. It usually did not. But I lived by it as my mother had too. Lessons, she taught me guided me quite frequently. That being just one of them.

They’re coming.

           I shuttered with the wind as it brought that news. Constant reminders. I wanted to scream out, I know. I know all too well. Instead, I stayed quiet, fighting to go to sleep to earn some peace. Peace would not come, however. My dreams would be filled with thoughts of them coming, my husband, my child not getting everything they need. The idea of peace is just that, an idea, a hope. There was none for me.

           The sounds were pounding by the time my eyes opened. Light barely came through the windows. The clouds were here and so was the shadow. My feet pounded, carrying me out onto the porch. The corn stocks now looked like they were laying down, the wind rearing its ugly face.

They’re coming.

They’re coming.

They’re coming.

           The words pounded into me. My eyes watered, dirt flying into them. I felt my way to the sink, rinsing them out as best I could. Turning, she was behind me again, head cocked to the side. Quickly fixing oatmeal, she ate while I worried.

           Opting to give her time off today, I set her up with her favorite things in the living room. Not before getting her dressed in her Sunday best, no hair out of place and a bow matching her shoes.

           The wind howled outside.

They’re coming.

           Quickly, I needed to get everything done quickly. Forgetting my shoes, I headed to the barn, multitasking, not without dropping things. The grime now covered me just as it did the windows. Hurry. You must hurry.

           Stepping out of the barn, a cloud of dust was nearing. Pounding of horseshoes coming down the way carried with the wind just as the words did.

They’re coming.

           Minutes, a matter of minutes and they would be here. The dust rounded the drive at the far end of the field. My feet ran me into the house and to the bathroom. Grabbing a cloth, I wet it down and scrubbed at my flesh. The grime coming off, slowly it felt. I was running out of time. Finally getting the last mark off, I put my Sunday best on, running my fingers through my hair.

           Standing in the doorway, she was beside me. Watching the cloud of dust get closer.

They’re coming.

           The wind howled again.

They’re coming.