Their family had lived on the land for over one hundred years and now it was just the three women. Mother/Daughter; Mother/Daughter.
He'd died (Husband/ Father/Grandfather) just shortly after Christmas and there was still mourning, but faded a little now. Bearable.
(Widow/Mother/Grandmother), She told us tales of days gone by, of exciting trips to “civilization” and the visitors, though far between. She smiled and talked of babies almost born on boats and pride in work, independence and ownership. My Daughter played with the Daughter's Daughter. She was shown and then allowed to pick up a hen and was taught about the rooster. Was given lessons about feeding and caring, mating and cougars (!) in the woods.
The Mother/Daughter shared with us her concerns. Hiding away or carrying on independence/tradition? She told us tales of difficult times and dealings with many beasts, constantly casting us shy glances from the side of her eyes.
Slipping away, they waved to us from the dock, Mother/Daughter and Daughter. Up near the house, bent over her walker, (Widow/Grandmother/Mother), she too watched us glide into the passage.
My Daughter and I stood on the deck and waved too.
(Widow/Grandmother/Mother/Daughter), did not wave back.
I wonder if she could see us?
From the hard.