Post by nadia on Apr 13, 2008 16:59:41 GMT -8
Sunday, July 11, 2010, 3:00 p.m.
That's it! She was going to make tomorrow different, today if possible. Nadia had no clue how she was going to do it, but she would accomplish it some way, somehow. She was tired of the monotony of her life in the Tutaminis Manor being so overwhelming that the days seemed to blur together. Every day she did the same things: woke up, got dressed and cleaned up, brushed her teeth and hair, made or helped make everyone breakfast, read a book or walked the grounds, made or helped make everyone lunch, read a book or walked the grounds (whichever one she hadn't done earlier), maybe sewed, cleaned, and made or helped make everyone dinner.
It wasn't that she was complaining. She most certainly was not. She appreciated all Damien was doing for her and the rest of the fugitives, and every now and again, she did run into some familiar faces and have a chance to chat, but she wasn't the most talkative person ever. Besides, what she did now was the least she could do to show her thanks for it, and without doing what she was doing, she wouldn't feel like she was earning her keep, and that was something her parents had drilled into her for most of her life as well as a strong work ethic. Her mother was the type whose hands were never idle. She cleaned from sun-up to sun-down on some days, other days breaking for some sort of craft, but it was usually something to decorate the house or give someone to wear or whatever. So, she was used to work. Not to mention, it kept her from having to think all too much and helped her with her emotions.
Right now she was sitting alone in a chair in the sitting room of the place beside a lamp with a couple of piles around her. The one to her right held clothing still needed to be repaired and the one to her left held the clothing she'd already finished fixing. Right now she was working on patching up a pair of jeans. Gone were the days where any of them could walk into a store and buy whatever they want to replace what was worn out. She supposed they could venture to a muggle area, but they had more important things to spend their money on. Patch jobs would do for quite some time.
As she sewed, she sang quietly to herself an old Irish song by the name of Down by the Sally Gardens:
"It was down by the Sally Gardens, my love and I did meet.
She crossed the Sally Gardens with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree,
But I was young and foolish, and with her did not agree.
"In a field down by the river, my love and I did stand
And on my leaning shoulder, she laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy , as the grass grows on the weirs
But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.
"Down by the Sally Gardens, my love and I did meet.
She crossed the Sally Gardens with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree,
But I was young and foolish, and with her did not agree."
That's it! She was going to make tomorrow different, today if possible. Nadia had no clue how she was going to do it, but she would accomplish it some way, somehow. She was tired of the monotony of her life in the Tutaminis Manor being so overwhelming that the days seemed to blur together. Every day she did the same things: woke up, got dressed and cleaned up, brushed her teeth and hair, made or helped make everyone breakfast, read a book or walked the grounds, made or helped make everyone lunch, read a book or walked the grounds (whichever one she hadn't done earlier), maybe sewed, cleaned, and made or helped make everyone dinner.
It wasn't that she was complaining. She most certainly was not. She appreciated all Damien was doing for her and the rest of the fugitives, and every now and again, she did run into some familiar faces and have a chance to chat, but she wasn't the most talkative person ever. Besides, what she did now was the least she could do to show her thanks for it, and without doing what she was doing, she wouldn't feel like she was earning her keep, and that was something her parents had drilled into her for most of her life as well as a strong work ethic. Her mother was the type whose hands were never idle. She cleaned from sun-up to sun-down on some days, other days breaking for some sort of craft, but it was usually something to decorate the house or give someone to wear or whatever. So, she was used to work. Not to mention, it kept her from having to think all too much and helped her with her emotions.
Right now she was sitting alone in a chair in the sitting room of the place beside a lamp with a couple of piles around her. The one to her right held clothing still needed to be repaired and the one to her left held the clothing she'd already finished fixing. Right now she was working on patching up a pair of jeans. Gone were the days where any of them could walk into a store and buy whatever they want to replace what was worn out. She supposed they could venture to a muggle area, but they had more important things to spend their money on. Patch jobs would do for quite some time.
As she sewed, she sang quietly to herself an old Irish song by the name of Down by the Sally Gardens:
"It was down by the Sally Gardens, my love and I did meet.
She crossed the Sally Gardens with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree,
But I was young and foolish, and with her did not agree.
"In a field down by the river, my love and I did stand
And on my leaning shoulder, she laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy , as the grass grows on the weirs
But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.
"Down by the Sally Gardens, my love and I did meet.
She crossed the Sally Gardens with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree,
But I was young and foolish, and with her did not agree."