I want to weep, but no tears trickle down. I want to shout, but my mouth does not open. I want to stamp my feet and beat my chest, but all my energy is sapped out of body. The tears, screams, and tantrums of of the continuous depressing days remain stifled in me. What I can do is simply frown at the jet-black future. Without my husband, I have no one to rely on, and it is all my duty to care for the brittle lives of my innocent children. Today will be gone soon, thankfully without any fuss. However, what is going to happen tomorrow? I feel my heart tighten with nervousness. From trembling with constant tension, I know that on my forehead, my greasy hair is plastered down with sweat, and feint wrinkles are badly etched. In the olden days, I was a young, pretty girl with no greasy hair or wrinkles. However, now here I am sitting down as a weak old woman, looking for some kind of hope that I can depend on. Grimacing, I blankly scratch my weathered chin.
I feel chilly in my badly-worn, sooty clothes. I am desperate to get changed into new, clean, and warm clothes, but obviously I do not have any money. Sadly, I cuddle my baby with one arm so at least he would not feel the cold. My poor kids want to be cuddled too, and snuggle into me. Realizing that I have no strength to wrap my arms around them, they helplessly lean on my narrow shoulders. As I hear their weak complaints and pleas, my heart tells them that nothing is going to change, but my lips remain pursed. Should I keep moving to the South with these kids, seeking for food and shelter? Oh, I do not know. I do not want to take more risks, as that will cost more hunger and more pain, but never end this journey of Great Depression. I keep on blankly staring at the dark sky that is now gathering up ominous clouds. Soon, I see a streak of light making its way through the mass of clouds. Right now, all I can depend on as hope is that shimmering light.
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