by Bobby Wenzoski

Created on: December 21, 2011

Elsie closed her eyes lightly, she listened to the children outside clicking and clacking through the rocks down the path in front of the house on their bikes. Without seeing them, she seen their smiles through the trees in her minds' eye. Hungry for this warm vision, she rose from her chair and took three steps leaning towards the window peering through, the lilac trees were not there, nor was the path. Looking to the sky she seen cloud sheering tones ripple like folds, transforming into a dismal gray, resembling a sheet folding over and over again, slowly a powdery puff of snow released the folds, leaving Elsie to wonder, where is my little paper boy? Somehow she was high up in the air looking down upon a paved street and wondered, where am I?

Half turning into a stumble, she took a step backwards, falling against the cool steel of a bed frame, within a foot of the frame Elsie reached out and clasped onto a dresser, gathering her balance she sat down upon the bed. Fragmented pieces of memories came thundering through her mind, bewildered for a time, her mind began revealing part of the past memories, enslaving her eyes with tears bursting straight from her heart.

Peeling layers and flipping through thought's, vibrant memories emerged, shifting in the unwelcoming bed she began to drift off....

Neighbours can be a blessing, or a putrid evil wrath causing much strife, rife and unnecessary suffering for those living nearby, as was the case with their neighbours', the Michaud's. Pale ale and wandering was a habit of their clan. Mr. Michaud was drunk one dark night and became enraged with Elsie's new born child crying from teething. Mr. Michaud broke into her home and beat Elsie with a fence post, into a comma, as she protected her child. Her life was not to be surrendered that day; the universe pulled her back to life, for the love she had to give was immeasurable.

Three beautiful angelic faces, blond bouncing curls roaming through the tall green grasses, she listened to their gibberish float through the window, while baking bread. The summer wind drifted through the tiny house, bringing with it a sweet bitter smell of dandelions, somehow the scent combined with the bread baking created a smell incredibly sustaining all on it's own.

Elsie only dreamed of caring full time for her children,  her husband Joe was emotionally paralyzed from the war. Sitting for hours and hours staring at the wall, or looking over simple coins, Joe was just not functioning.

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