Jimmy Stuart's voice fills the little house. Tonight, he has a western drawl, the annoying, affected accent found only in 1950s cowboy movies, even more exaggerated by the amazing volume at which the television is set. I wonder idly whether Grandpa turns the volume up because he is deaf, or whether he's deaf because he turns the volume up. At least Grandma doesn't seem to mind.
I make myself a cup of tea and steal a slightly overcooked sugar cookie from the bright red tin on the kitchen counter. My room is just down the hall from the television, but with the door closed, the ceiling fan on high, and music from the internet radio, I am finally able to drown out the sound of the movie. I nibble my cookie as I settle in to read A Communist Manifesto.
It's a quiet sort of Saturday evening. There's a calm safety to the business of studying on the weekend. For a little while, it will feel good to be productive. And then I'll go to bed.
About Me
Child of My Love, lean hard! Let Me feel the pressure of your care.
I know your burden, child, I shaped it - Poised it in My own hand
Made no proportion of its weight to thy unaided strength.
For even as I laid it on, I said, “I shall be near,
And while she leans on Me,
So shall I keep My child within the circling arms of My own love.
Here lay it down, nor fear to impose it on a shoulder which upholds the government of worlds!
Yet closer come, you are not near enough!
I would embrace your burden, so I might feel My child reposing on My breast.
You love Me! I know it. Doubt not, then.
But, loving me, lean hard!
~ Anonymous
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