Is this her way of testing us? The mountain shakes the frost wondering if her children will starve before they freeze. They show up barefoot at hotels asking for just one room for the night, gone by morning. They hunger bitter in lines till doors snap shut, donations gone, no assistance here. What charity can hearts have in a world of white noise, stark chaos like blizzard snow. I look to the mountain mother wearing her first winter shawl draped over her hair. I finally see her face for what it is, I know her name as Mary, and she has covered her son's eyes from our plight.
Not sure if it's finished, or if the point got muddled by the end. Likely will appear again in my Mountain Mama series later. Regardless, best wishes 🤗
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