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Pierce then asked if I would like him to throw the portrait away. I almost said yes, but then I stood and crossed the room, opening the armoire holding boxes of his work. Tipping the lid of the one entitled AFGHANISTAN 1880, I slipped the photograph inside. There has been a price paid, and it would be a shame if the full toll were left unaccounted. It’s not only the faces on the battlefield that tell the story of war.
“There is a great chasm between knowledge and belief.”
I’ve decided positivity is the Everest of virtues. You have to not only confront the dismal realities of life but choose, ofttimes, to blatantly ignore them.
“No one warns that you can be ripped, joint from bone, simply by staring at a box, simply by holding a bit of earth in your hand. Mother was a great admirer of the Virgin Mary, and I know that phrase always moved her. ‘Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also.’ It may be blasphemous to say it, but that’s how I felt, standing there. And not only did the sword pierce, but it was twisted before the end.”
Hawkes began slowly. “It takes a great deal to trust the future after one is acquainted with loss.”
“It does. But it seems that sword pierced Christ so that we always have a future. Even one different than planned.”
And it was life, my life, and…and there were footsteps on the stairs.” “Whose?” “I don’t know. But he sounded like the other half of home.”
