Saturday, July 24, 2010

205. Dust on the hillside

Immediately the hostilities had ceased and the men of the village had come out of the caves and down from the hillsides, Eleni was promised in marriage to Nikolas, the youngest son of the largest landholder in the village who, with his brothers and sisters, tended the extensive family market gardens. They struggled to make the land viable, and life all over the Peloponnese peninsular was difficult.

In the early ‘50s, Nikolas and Eleni and their own young family emigrated to Australia, settling on a small holding in Camden. Life was good. Their children flourished. They increased their holding gradually, yet were saddened as, one after the other, each son left the farm for life in the city.

Nikolas and Eleni were torn between their future and their past. They ached for the dust on the hillside, for the narrow winding roads, donkeys and black widow weeds. They craved roots.

1 comment:

Joan Elizabeth said...

Yes roots are hard to dismiss. Another nicely written story making a statement without telling.