‘The Water Girl…’

A little story I wrote for my daughters to talk about life perspective

A little story I wrote for my daughters to talk about life perspective, but something for all to think about (sparked by the image used for the cover).

READER COMMENTS About The Water Girl by Dennis LoweryEvery morning it was her job to bring water to wash, to mix with meal to make flatbread and to drink. She followed the trail up and over the small ridge that shrouded and protected the homesite from an open range scoured by the wind. The path had been created by countless years of bare feet. Her grandmother and mother’s before… and after her, likely a daughter’s; the child she would bear before long. Barely a teen she was of an age for a husband. It would be soon.

It was not what she wished for. The missionary, before she died, had taught her to read. And the traders had left a few books. Some with pictures of a world and life she could not fathom. Seeing them… reading the words left her changed with a vague feeling of discontent.

It was quiet and cool by the river. There in the still sleeping darkness before the heat of the sun—already felt on her back as she descended the bank—burnt it away. She paused for a moment but couldn’t take more time than what was expected. She thought of how the missionary had told her of cities and far lands. Of the world and how large it was. With a sigh she didn’t realize had come from her, she stooped to fill her jug.

The sun, higher on the horizon, was in her face as she trudged back to her small existence. All she knew. In that last cool and peaceful moment, she wondered how other girls—in the so very big world—started their days.

Take a walk down by, take a walk down by the river.

There’s a lot that you, there’s a lot that you can learn.

If you’ve got a mind, that’s open, if you’ve got a heart that yearns.

–Traffic, Hidden Treasure

PLEASE READ: This--below--is where intelligent comments are exchanged and threads of meaningful and thought-provoking discussion can take place. Some of my favorite stories I've written started with such exchanges and through them I've met some truly wonderful people. This comment section is a place where it's almost old-school in that responses--if one is needed--may not be immediate but will come. Kind of like postal mail correspondence, an easier pace that allows thoughtfulness and not knee-jerk fingers flying over keyboard replies, or something that comes out as top of mind, a stream of conscious superficiality. I hope to hear from and interact with you on anything I've written that sparks a thought or urge to comment.

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