These are all wonderfully written, saying so much in such a short amount of space, but being a mom, I love Ellen’s most of all. :)
Favorite lines:
The scar runs up her middle like a zipper, a toothed line dividing her life into Before and After.
Great description!
Sometimes when Jo stares her down with eyes so like Bill’s, when she worries that damn knife like a rosary, Ellen rests her hand over the scar, needing that tangible reminder that her daughter is fashioned of the same blood and bone and gut that she is.
Love, love, love this.
“You don’t understand, Ellen,” he said. “It’s not about teaching her to hunt; it’s about giving her something to hold when I’m gone.”
Ooh, that’s good.
“I thought maybe you could write down your war stories for Dean and the baby. A legacy for when they’re older,” Mary says.
Later, when John begins to write, he records a very different sort of war.
This just hurts.
I really like the idea that the journal was originally from Mary.
So once they’re on the road, he’s shocked to find bits of himself everywhere—his old sunglasses wedged in the glove box, his shotgun in the trunk, a note in Dean’s wallet that reads, Back from the library in twenty. Don’t wait up.
It’s so appropriate that pieces of Sam would be in the car, and that Dean would keep that note.
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winterfish
no subject
Date: 2007-04-03 12:18 am (UTC)Favorite lines:
The scar runs up her middle like a zipper, a toothed line dividing her life into Before and After.
Great description!
Sometimes when Jo stares her down with eyes so like Bill’s, when she worries that damn knife like a rosary, Ellen rests her hand over the scar, needing that tangible reminder that her daughter is fashioned of the same blood and bone and gut that she is.
Love, love, love this.
“You don’t understand, Ellen,” he said. “It’s not about teaching her to hunt; it’s about giving her something to hold when I’m gone.”
Ooh, that’s good.
“I thought maybe you could write down your war stories for Dean and the baby. A legacy for when they’re older,” Mary says.
Later, when John begins to write, he records a very different sort of war.
This just hurts.
I really like the idea that the journal was originally from Mary.
So once they’re on the road, he’s shocked to find bits of himself everywhere—his old sunglasses wedged in the glove box, his shotgun in the trunk, a note in Dean’s wallet that reads, Back from the library in twenty. Don’t wait up.
It’s so appropriate that pieces of Sam would be in the car, and that Dean would keep that note.