Her Spirit Fills the Room

The house in which they live is ordinary by any standards. Nothing special at the gate and furniture assembled out of need: not out of taste. Inside this home they live their lives, unremarkable by any count and beset by worries we all have. He clings to faith and she has understanding. Decent people, they don’t cause much fuss, make a living but only just: rich in failings but nothing bad. A couple with three daughters just like mine. Lovely girls, just as you would expect, modest, decent and with parents that they trust.

To polite to mention it out loud, there is a shadow in their home. One girl is ill. Her health is threatened but she never complains. The air around her suggests she is visiting rather than settling. Her mother and father say nothing but you can see it in their eyes. They love her more than life itself but live with the fear her illness brought. You can never say I love you enough to those you do. When they are gone you will be left with the silence and what you didn’t do.

Her dad is not a verbal man and talks about one thing when he means another but you can’t miss the worry in his eyes. I, who have known this girl so briefly, feel the privilege of having met her. Her mother is a special women: hard with knowledge but soft of understanding: she always knows what’s real. Her children are her life.

We have our worries, my partner and I. Just like you they seem to fill our minds. We dream of release but wake to them each day. Today this special girl must go for the treatment her health requires: she will need it all her life. Thinking of her I find I have no worries worth a thought, apart from this girl. The love we feel for her will never die.

About Peter Wells aka Countingducks

Trying to remember what my future is
This entry was posted in childhood, faith, Health, Life, Relationships and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Her Spirit Fills the Room

  1. Big Al says:

    This is a touching story. It is tough for a parent as you so eloquently express. My heart goes out to them.


  2. Thankyou. It really is. My heart goes out to them too


  3. says:

    Dear Sir,
    I’ll let you in on a secret I have to increase comments. If you check my site, you’ll see that most of them are just recycled. What I mean is when I have a post I like, I just change the date and update it to today when editing. It’s sort of like blog magic. Shhh, it’s a secret. 😉

    It looks like I have 24 comments, which I do, but they have been collected over time. When I first started off blogging I checked comments and stats non stop. That’s how we know we are connecting with your readers. What I have learned is that as in all things it takes time to build a blog and time to build a readership. You have some great stories over here, so I’d not worry if I were you!
    Happy blogging.


  4. This is such a beautiful story. You know I love reading your short stories.


  5. swells says:

    Lovely story – lucky for your the sheep couldn’t speak !!


  6. backonmyown says:

    You put my worries in perspective.


  7. Julie says:

    Thanks for the good cry, CD. It helped my eyes. I love how you write of relationships and families, how you make what can be so difficult to absorb a pungent combination of sweet, sorrowful and hopeful. Thank you for your continually healing and faithful words.


  8. eof737 says:

    Sad and touching story… Words are not enough… 😦


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