Village Squire, 1973-04, Page 23Ahigh-pitched voice made her look toward the
children again. One of the bigger boys had just hit
the ball. It sailed towards her. The centre fielder,
a little boy about six cr seven, was running after the
balL It dropped, bounced several times and came to
rest twenty feet away from her.
The little boy rand hard, as if his life depended on
it, but already the older boy was rounding third base
and starting for home. By the time he got to the ball
the run had scored. She was nearly beside him now.
He picked up the ball and stopped to look up at her.
The shiny blue eyes sparkled with excitment.
He smiled.
"Good afternoon, Malin."
And he turned and ran toward the field, the ball
chitched in his hand.
Wasn't that nice she thought as she walked on. How
few times children were polite to their elders these
days.
But as she walked on farther it wasn't what the
child had said that remained in her memory but the
look in those clear young eyes. They had been so
bright, so alive, and yet this boy faced a life without
anyone who loved him. It wasn't just a few years of
loneliness as she had but a lifetime.
What was it John had said? "No matter how bad off
you are you can always look around and see someone
worse off." He'd said it so many times when the going
had gotten tough. It seemed to give him strength to go
on. But the words never seemed so true as now. If
this little orphan could be happy and expect the best of
life who was she to mope?
Her pace livened as she came back onto the street
after corssing the park. Yes that was it! Surely it was
the lesson that John was trying to teach her all his life.
Why hadn't she seen it before? He had always fought
back. He never lay down and gave up no matter how
hard the world beat him. He kept swinging.
No she couldn't give in to this. It would be like
denying all that John had ever me ant.
Her jaw set determinedly. There must be something
she could do with the years left in her life. She wasn't
young anymore but she was healthy. There must be
someone she could help. Maybe at the hospital. May-
be she could even help those orphans. Maybe....
No the answer wouldn't come like a bolt of light
from heaven. There wasn't any easy way of guarant-
eeing the rest of her years would be happy. There
would be nights when the loneliness would seem so hard
to bear that she would wonder whether life was worth it.
But now she knew that it WAS. Just making that dec-
ision was a start. No matter how rough the struggle
she would always have the strength for one more mile.
THE TRAP
It's the trap
that catches you unaware,
that tears you away
from your once cherished loved ones.
Hatred of heritage.
Emptiness takes the place
of the warmth you once felt.
There's no one to turn to,
no more secrets to share.
Nothing.
And there exists the trap,
The Generation Gap.
Karen Shepherd, Silhouette Magazine