Expending Will - An Edited Excerpt
Guilt wasn’t born on a small farm in rural southeast Kansas on New Year’s Eve 1922, but it was about to reach levels unequaled at any previous celebrations.
It’s not clear whether little Harold became custodian of his mother’s emotions immediately after his birth on that chilly day at the end of December, or if he inherited the duties when his father died 8 months later. It is known that with increasing frequency Millie would explode and Harold would gather up any recognizable pieces he could locate and lug them around until Millie was able to carry the burdens on her own again.
Some he never relinquished.
Two older brothers had, seemingly, opted out of their contracts and early on Harold was left to shoulder the bulk of his mother’s feelings. As it turned out, the brothers each carried the legacy as well, though it remained buried deeper than Harold’s excess luggage and possibly even more damaging. One thing was certain. Little Harold’s position was permanent. The only thing that could relieve him from his newfound chore was death.
After a while it didn’t matter whose.
A family story circulating for years claimed that in the early 1930’s his brothers tied two cats together, tail to tail, then tossed them over a clothesline just to watch them fight. Before the contestants were cut down, it would be easy to imagine how Harold might have watched, silently, and felt he was represented on both sides of that clothesline.
World War II would provide a brief respite, but wars don’t last forever, and within a couple of years he put down his weapons in order to pick up the scattered bits that Millie had lost track of in his absence.
Permanent relief came 55 years and 41 days after he had initially taken up his mantle; though he, to anyone’s knowledge, never saw it as such. He never complained. His was merely a life, like any other, with its ups, downs, distractions, and personal responsibility the glue that held it all together.
And he is still missed.
Happy Birthday, Dad.
I remember having seen this piece from you before, Pinhole, and it is still one of my favorites.
Happy New Year to you!
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Yes, I remember that you viewed an abbreviated portion of this some time back. Parts of it should be new to you, however.
Thank you, and Happy New Year to you, too!
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You have, at times, written about your Father. He must have been a wonderful man to be remembered so dearly.
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Yes. If you were to glance at the extreme of any argument you would likely find me on one end and my dad on the other, but yes, he was quite a guy.
Thanks, Ms. Zola.
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Great piece, and beautifully written. I really enjoyed this (guess I missed it the first time.) Happy New Year, Pinhole!
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Thanks, Wolf. You didn't miss anything, this has never seen publication. PC had a private viewing of this piece in one of its larval forms.
Happy New Year to you, and yours!
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A very beautiful and touching piece, Pinhole! Have a great and happy new year!
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Thank you very much, Montucky.
And a very Happy New Year to you, and your family!
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Happy New Year, Pinhole!
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And Happy New Year to you, Jen/domestika! I feel like I've won the Lottery!
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Sorry to be so late with this, but many thanks for the memories. Most appreciated.
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Late is no problem. And many thanks to you. I never know just how skewed my perspective might be, it helps to know I'm not too far off.
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in your country is switching to winter time?
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As expected, has written atypically otzheg!
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Very amusing thought, well told, just do everything laid out on the shelves
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