This time I headed back towards the park and the shelter of a weeping willow, with the heron in the water, close by, watching, waiting; while I learned the fate of these men, and felt the helpless fury of Paul Edgecombe’s wife Janice as she realized what was to be. She sat without answering. She sat that way for almost a full minute, and then she did something which shocked me as badly as my sudden flow of tears must have shocked her. She reached out and shoved everything off the table with one wide sweep of her arm – plates, glasses, cups, silverware, the bowl of collards, the bowl of squash, the platter with the carved ham on it, the milk, the pitcher of cold tea. All off the table and onto the floor, ker-smash.
As we all did.
I loved those six little books and thoroughly enjoyed revisiting them and remembering that which was then.
If you have not already done so, it is not too late to walk The Green Mile. Highly recommended!