Mondegoan blues

This small town up on a hill overlooking the Mondego River was my place of dwelling for a few years. Poverty stricken, insular and close minded were its people, who never really made me feel at home. The big city girl, with the urbane alcoholic husband and the small shy daughter. In a place where people were always someone's cousin or aunt or mother, I stood to have to prove my worth by the sole weight of my accomplishments.

Considering my personal history at the time, with its episodic personal recklessness, I was on the rebound and trying to make good on the commitment to straightening what was skewed for so long. I fairly well succeed for the most part. But a failed marriage, a child with learning difficulties and the emotional eroding effect of always trying to balance a very tight budget, ate slowly away at my iron determination. What came next was to be what would again trans form me. And the obligatory move, in an absurd attempt to push away the deamons in my soul.