Mangled Shoes

She invited her in for dinner, warmed the lentil soup with buttered bread then laid a mattress for her on the living room floor.

"You can spend the night here tonight, then we'll see if we can do anything pertaining to opening a case and finding your belongings."

"Thank you; God bless your home." The stranger replied.

"It is well; get some rest."

Warda said nothing about what she saw. What if they come from me? If I tell Mom, they will come for me, she thought to herself as she brushed her teeth and got ready for bed.

"Did you finish your homework, Warda?"

Yes, here, Mom."

"Okay good." Mrs. Malhultze barely looked but continued to say, "Go to bed now; I'll pack your lunch in your bag for tomorrow."

Warda went back to her lebensraum, where she lay in silence that night, contemplating the upcoming school day and all the treats her mother had prepared for her to enjoy during break. Her thoughts turned to her mother and how resilient she was for everything she continuously gave up for them. Before finally drifting off to sleep, she muttered a small prayer in her heart.

"Dear God, protect my mother; give her peace; give her strength, amen.''

Warda needed strength more than anyone else because her upbringing was in utter disarray. As time went on, she began to feel the effects of everything, and whenever she didn't get her way or missed their father, she would have a fit. They were all terrified that if she had a fit while they were away, they might lose her to one. God forbid she should fall and end up with a concussion or worse.

The following morning, Mrs. Malhultze stopped by the hospital on her way to drop Warda off at school. Deborah was no longer employed. She made an effort to explain to her mother that she really needed her help and, more importantly, that she needed her for once.

Mrs. Malhutze as a woman who was born in 1917 and in her early forties. She feared God and repeatedly told 'the brats' how she had sacrificed her dreams and aspirations. When she could have run with others to South Africa. She sure took them to church every Sunday. She was stylish and creative in the kitchen, too.

Kenneth, well, that man was now living his father's life as a handsome lad; he'd long detached himself from his wife and children. It was rumored over the neighborhood barbed wire that he now had other children, "Bastard Children.'' Maybe seven, maybe eight, maybe nine, Ten!, they were.

"Mom, morning."

''Morning Debbie, are you ready? We are leaving now."

"Mom what I truly need is..."

''Not a word from your mouth, Deborah; I have said what I said."

The doctors walked in and announced Deborah's discharge. Her mother thanked them and then immediately took Deborah to the Klien Windhoek "hikepad- where hitchhikers would travel to a place further away and compensate the driver for transportation.''