We are well south of Boston but the hush of it all has spread even this far. My husband couldn’t take the commuter rail into town because the MBTA has shut down, and anyway, his office is in the heart of the city and is closed. We are all of us sheltering in place in one way or another, holding our breath and hoping for resolution.
When you have a child, you do your best to shield them from it all. You promise that the world is a safe place. You hold hands. You walk away from the tv and the computer and you step into the woods and built little fairy houses. Safe as houses. That’s what we want to be.
May Nothing Evil Pass This Door
May nothing evil cross this door,
and may ill fortune never pry
about these windows; may the roar
and rain go by.
By faith made strong, the rafters will
withstand the battering of the storm.
This hearth, though all the world grow chill,
will keep you warm.
Peace shall walk softly through these rooms,
touching our lips with holy wine,
till every casual corner blooms
into a shrine.
With laughter drown the raucous shout,
and, though these sheltering walls are thin,
may they be strong to keep hate out
and hold love in.
by Louis Untermeyer
Prints are available at Ali Crehan Photography.
Peace. Let’s hope that the worst is now past.
I hope so, Kay. I really hope so.
This is such a poignant post at such a delicate time for Boston folks. I had young children when 911 happened and I sheltered them from all the media coverage by going out to the woods and beach for walks.