One

I would see her daily, carrying that load, encumbered, weighed down by it. She gave the appearance of someone who was waiting , endlessly waiting, yes, it is what she did. Perhaps she was waiting, waiting for someone to come and relieve her of her burden, take the strain for a while, although I am not certain she was conscious of carrying anything, things were just as they were. Also she was rarely alone, there was at least one other accompanying her wherever she went, always talking. How she would long for solitude, for peace, if only for a moment. The constant chatter could drive her to distraction so much so on occasion she feared for her sanity, although in time it became as background noise, such that she hardly noticed it.

She became adept at hiding , scared that someone would realise and confine her somewhere. She could not bear that, not so much for her own sake but because of the children, if anyone knew they might take them away from her. That she could not risk, so she hid – not that anyone would realise that that was what she was doing, far from it, all those who met her found her to be an extremely friendly and warm human being. She was very good at paying attention to others – it helped alleviate the ill-at-ease feeling she herself experienced when in company. It takes a lot of energy to constantly pretend that you are like everyone else, for she knew that she was not.

Aaah, I am getting ahead of myself. It is difficult to know where to start in the telling, there is so much and it was confused and confusing. All those who were her constant companions want voices too, unravelling takes time and effort. I shall do my best.