Sweet Spring Air (April 3010) {Braeldia}
Mar 18, 2018 20:25:48 GMT -5
Post by Léoma on Mar 18, 2018 20:25:48 GMT -5
“I have had such thoughts,” Léoma answered. “But the coin I make by the sale of the greens would not cover the cost of a horse. It is better to allow my own muscles the work any way. If they idle I shall lose my range of motion,” she mused. “Winter was cruel on me in that regard this year.”
Léoma was not certain if winter had been so cruel, or if it had been the imaginings of her own mind that had made it worse. She had hardly left her house through the winter due to the cold and ice, and found herself unable to walk far afterwards. Truly, Léoma had let herself go this past winter, in her lonliness. The contracture of her arm had become so great that it was easier to stay in the warmth of her bed during the day than it had been to bend and use her arms and fingers to start the fire on the hearth and cook. Things had seemed very bleak and dark.
Though that had been before she had found work. As winter waned she had, by force of needing nourishment, had to leave home for the market one day, and had come upon a shopkeeper needing someone to do his record keeping. Léoma knew it was in pity that he had given her the job. She could read it on the faces of people, even if she did not let them know she knew it. But as it was, she had glady taken the offer of work she could do. There were few things that Léoma was good at beyond the work of her mind, and writing was something she could manage, though she wrote as slowly as she walked. Still, she had been able to eat. It had been worth it to make it through winter in the end when there were days such as today to tarry on the plain and listen to the birds.
She looked toward the horses again, “I would have liked to own a horse,” she told Braeldia honestly. “Yet I am not strong enough to to saddle nor get atop on my own. Neither would I be able to maneuver a larger cart or harness. Sometimes we do not get to do each of the things we wish in life.”
Léoma was not certain if winter had been so cruel, or if it had been the imaginings of her own mind that had made it worse. She had hardly left her house through the winter due to the cold and ice, and found herself unable to walk far afterwards. Truly, Léoma had let herself go this past winter, in her lonliness. The contracture of her arm had become so great that it was easier to stay in the warmth of her bed during the day than it had been to bend and use her arms and fingers to start the fire on the hearth and cook. Things had seemed very bleak and dark.
Though that had been before she had found work. As winter waned she had, by force of needing nourishment, had to leave home for the market one day, and had come upon a shopkeeper needing someone to do his record keeping. Léoma knew it was in pity that he had given her the job. She could read it on the faces of people, even if she did not let them know she knew it. But as it was, she had glady taken the offer of work she could do. There were few things that Léoma was good at beyond the work of her mind, and writing was something she could manage, though she wrote as slowly as she walked. Still, she had been able to eat. It had been worth it to make it through winter in the end when there were days such as today to tarry on the plain and listen to the birds.
She looked toward the horses again, “I would have liked to own a horse,” she told Braeldia honestly. “Yet I am not strong enough to to saddle nor get atop on my own. Neither would I be able to maneuver a larger cart or harness. Sometimes we do not get to do each of the things we wish in life.”