Blue Ridge Community College - Doubling Yearbook (Weyers Cave, VA)

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92 F oand Wanting I reached, but not for things; for knowledge for truth for wisdom. I touchedpettiness and hate. Some minds ran in small circles, others neverfound a point. I was told I was stupid . in many ways in many days. Found wanting, not good enough, I did not retreat but was beaten back with words. I wept for my mother, my sisters and all those before me who sought life and found small deaths because we are women, the givers of life. H ated most by those who neverfeel the pangs. Janice Hudson Honorable Mention Poetry Category

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The water looked angry and foreboding and the chill of the windy evening added to the impending danger. My wet suit seemed more awkward than usual, but at last I was ready to go. I gave a last checking tug to my body line before edging my way toward the figures that now seemed lashed to the fence post. With a rapid roar, the water lapped at the soft soil of the field as I made a cautious entry into its force. I could see the mother's face was drawn with fear. I could feel her eyes pleading to me as her strength less- ened . I shouted for her to hang on a little longer, hoping to teach her quickly. I was only a few feet from the post when I saw an outstretched arm. Not yet, I thought. I'm not close enough . . . But the water found a way to loosen her from the post and rush her body quickly away. I lunged forward; but my safety rope cut at my waist. There was nothing I could do . . . They were gone. It was sickening to think of how close I was. I hoped the boat could find them, as I dragged myself back to the umt. How unreal it all seemed and how inadequate I felt. Helplessly, I wept. Suddenly all our equipment and life- saving devices were useless. I remember how vainly I'd assumed I was ready for any emergency. I wondered if I could ever face another crisis. It wasn't until the next day that a unit from Staunton found the bodies of the mother and child . As the weeks passed and I continued the routine jobs my strength and confidence returned. I know now that I'm not the only crew member to carry a secret scar of bitter failure. I know, too , that there will be other times when I may be called upon to do more than I can. These times may wound me deeply, but that day on Meadow Run formed my first scar. Lou Fauber First Place Short Story Category Illustration by Susie Newman 91

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