FOUNDATIONS OF THE HEART
They are passing through life, they are travelling its long, vertical path much the same as they are the shadows of a girl's thoughts, in every room, here, there is a special element; in the whispers which bound the eucalyptus, it can be found, but it can only be described as grandeur. Within each of this house's inhabitants there stirs a secret passion, not least in Sasha Belling. For Sasha Belling moves through time, time whispers through her, wraps itself around her passions, but as she walks through the garden, out in the open air, or distils water for a science project in the house's worn away rooms, it cannot prompt her to act with discretion, as she so wished to; but she still bears a choice, the choice to make every movement an important one, the chance to absorb the voices, the feelings of others as if they were her own. What is it that is so important in their words?
On this one hundred acre farm, situated on the outskirts of a town called Edinsworth, in a fertile dairy farming area of the Murray river region, at the crossroads between Victoria and New South Wales, Sasha and her family lived out their lives. For Sasha, it is the most wonderful place. She was caught here, it seems, but it is a very good place to be caught. To life's end, she would attempt to find a place for her soul.
A strict, God fearing people, Sasha's family lived off the land. The importance of land was a critical theme of their bible, and of their own lives. The house which stood to the front of the hundred acre farm was mysterious from the beginning, though it was the first place Sasha knew in life, for one seems to have no prenatal memories.
So life begins, the people in this house must find the feeling which rests best with them. In the blackness of night, the lights brightly flash past that lonely house, they flash deeply into the Sasha inside, who is surrounded by her extended family.
As the night grows older, the family realise that they were getting too tired and they should go to bed. As Sasha approached her bedroom she tiptoed through the darkened hall, outside the night is silent, as the unending network of roads which surround the house protect her from the world by way of their soundless boundaries. As Sasha goes to sleep, deep down, she feels excited by the place which surrounds her. She can barely wait for the sun to rise, because when the sun rose, as for many, it would be the beginning of a new world. This bedroom seemed to her to be the beginning point of an endless network of opportunities which held nothing negative in them to push her back.
The next morning, in her extra special bedroom, Sasha awoke and fantasised about what she would do next. She couldn't stop thinking about the gramophone her mother used to play. She spent the morning listening to its magical chords and dreamt of successful Sashy, who would do wonderfully out there in Wonder World, but Sashy had much, much more to do yet.
"Sasha," she could hear her mother say, placing a pan over the fire,"you must try not to be rude to your Auntie Beck when you see her today."
Outside a squall was developing. Her mother ignored it and stuffed some letters into her satchel.
"Take these to your aunt and make sure you come home right away." She said. So
Sasha left excitedly.
"Sasha!" Her aunt said,"Am I surprised to see you here. What do you want?"
"My mother said to give you these letters." Sasha held them up for her to see. She took them, flicked through them carefully, and said,"Please come inside, Sasha."
So Sasha followed her inside and sat down on the ancient sofa as directed, her aunt pulled a chair up next to her, smiled and said,
"Sasha," She said, patting her knee, "don't ever, ever lose sight of who you are."
Sasha looked at her puzzled.
At the time, Sasha did not understand what she was saying, yet now she did, over and over. Very deeply.
If she could have been there now, Sasha would turn to her and say, "You've just about told me everything I need to know about myself and more."
At that stage Sasha felt nothing. Embarrassed, as a teenager, Sasha would have turned for the door with a sense of helplessness, but then she stared at her blankly, frozen in her thoughts.
"Sasha," she said, as Sasha headed for the door,"don't forget what I said, but just
draw on it."
Delicate words to a small child.
The young Sasha would grow into the older Sasha, from year to year, the six year old Sasha experienced privileged birthdays and got used to it. Little Sasha may have been adventuresome and impressionable, but she was growing into the older Sasha too, the Sasha who wanted to hide from her emotions, who wanted more? The Sasha to be is slowly becoming her, she said to herself, as she opened the gate again, in her mind, and saw the people she needed to see. She is becoming Sasha and Sasha will become her. It's all the same thing, isn't it, all in all.
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