by Martha Long
I gave a wave back, then stared for a second, looking at the paths shrouded in trees, seeing meself flying down the Cloistered Walk with the little gong in me hand, hurrying te catch up with the nuns walking in pairs, getting their prayers. Telling them outa breath, ‘You are wanted on the telephone.’ I seemed so young then. Fourteen! Now I am sixteen, all grown up and ready te face the world. I walked down the steps and took off heading down the avenue, then stopped at the gates for one long last look back at me childhood.
‘Goodbye, Ma. Goodbye, Sisters, ye weren’t the worst,’ I whispered, tears streaming down me face. It wasn’t so bad after all. Lonely! Yes, it was very lonely. I learned ye can have a full belly but yer heart can be very empty. The hunger te have a kind word or a gentle smile, or someone te put their arms around ye, can be far worse than an aching empty belly. But nothing so bad as what I was escaping from with Jackser. May ye die roaring, Jackser! For all yer badness. I knew that even when I first came through the gates with what seems now a lifetime ago. Remembering the first time, all of us sitting in the Black Maria and listening as it slowed down. Me heart nearly stopping with the fright, wondering what was happening. It was those gates we came through. I didn’t know then what was waiting for me. I felt a life sentence ahead of me. I was frightened te death, not knowing what was going te happen, but wishing for this day te come. When I could walk out a free young woman and nobody could hold any control over me.
Well, here I am, and whatever happens from now on will be of my own making. This is the start of my very own life. I have waited sixteen years for this moment. Goodbye, childhood! It was a long aul hard struggle. Ye were never a child anyway. Ye just had te wait until the world gave ye permission te do what ye always did: run in the world on yer own, hunting and helping yerself and others te survive, especially the little ones. Now it’s just you te take care of. The grown-up Martha.
If I ever want te meet ye again, little one, well, I only have te walk through these gates, and here ye’ll be. Playing and fighting, laughing and crying, haunting and hunting, desperately hoping for love. Keeping the eyes peeled for Sister Eleanor. Trying desperately te find a little spot in this place where ye’ll fit in, belong. Always hoping against hope someone would magically wrap their arms around ye, filling that empty cold feeling inside ye. Wanting te feel the warmth of a mother’s arms wrapped around ye, smothering ye with her kisses and telling ye everything will be all right. She’ll take care of ye. Oh, gawd almighty, ye craved that feeling of being safe and warm and loved, wiping away the years of pain and loneliness, that numbing sense of knowing no one wants ye. Ye have te buy their interest. Ye belong nowhere, te nobody. That pain! I could feel it now, clawing its way up te push out the happiness of leaving everything behind. God! I don’t think it will ever leave me. Ye pinned all yer hopes on Sister Eleanor. That was a waste of tears and energy. She could never have done anything for ye. Anyway, the queue was too long and ye ran outa time. Ye were too late! She only gave love te the little ones. The babies. Pity it took me so long te work that out. I might have saved meself a lot more pain.
I picked up me suitcase and turned me back, walking off hearing the voice of the little Martha’s ghost grow fainter with every step I took, taking me further away from her cries, and lifted my face inta the sharp October wind, letting it dry and ease the sores of that little one’s wounds and carry her away te rest in some dark forgotten place where only I will know she ever existed. Even then, I must now pretend she never was. This is the only way I can live. I stared inta the distance, closing my eyes for a brief second, feeling a part of me close down. Then lifted my head hurrying off ready te face inta the unknown.
