OK....one more post before I hit the road. The trip was postponed a day due to a scheduling conflict my stepdaughter had. We are leaving first thing in the morning.
(click to see a better view---I had trouble getting a decent scan)
She had grown up poor in the Appalachian mountains. Trapped and broken of spirit as a child, she was taught silence and obedience through fear. Yet always inside of her somehow a fire burned, even if at times it was only the tiniest spark. She was told that her imagination would only get her in trouble, that she couldn't "get above her raisings" and she shouldn't even try. Anna listened with her ears but not with her heart and it was in her heart that this spark smoldered and waited. There came a day when Anna was nineteen, a day she remembered later of cold mist and fog, that a small plain bird flew to her window and sang to her a song of freedom. Anna heard tales of places over the mountains, places she had not seen or ever thought could exist. The bird sang of the beauty of soaring swiftly on the wind. Anna viewed the bird as a sign of fortune and luck and in that deepest part of her heart she felt the spark growing larger and larger til it filled her up inside, til it filled her so full she knew the strings and wire that bound her were only that- Only strings that could be broken, wire that could be cut. Anna found a way to fly from all that was holding her down and she never forgot the bird in the window. xoxo,