Wishing Well
All that I have is this dull paring knife
Peeling potatoes for the rest of my life
Dirt floors make dust so I hope for the best
I carry candies with pains in my chest
Molly Weasley owned exactly what her mother had predicted. Nothing. Absolutely nothing but a mountain of debt, one husband, and seven children. In her most wistful moments, she imagined her mother arriving at their little ramshackle house, begging forgiveness for cutting off Molly’s inheritance when she married Arthur. In her most wistful moments. However, being poor – she’d learnt – meant that one had to sacrifice their wistful imagination for practical details. Like whose turn it was to clean the toilets, or whose turn it was to degnome the garden. If such technicalities weren’t taken care of, it was inevitably her job.
Molly, her mother had begged, you are born to be a member of high society. You can have it all; please don’t throw my work away.
And she, being the fool that she was, had sailed on; blissfully unaware that her father had vowed to cut her off if she married Arthur.
I saw a wishing well down by the stream
I never understood what wishes mean
Just ask for nothing you get what you get.
I asked for something I've not got it yet.
Her hands were callused now. They used to be pure, white and smooth. And now, they were brown, leathery. One finger had been broken. It was slightly crooked. Her nails were uncared for, short, chipped, broken. A long way away from the long elegant nails they used to be.
The most demeaning thing was her clothes. They were mismatched, and orange apron, a maroon dress. Red hair, brown shoes. There was a tear in the dress she hadn’t gotten to mend yet, and a stain on the bust of the dress.
We come alone and leave alone and look the horse in the mouth
We scratch the skin and break the bone and see birds migrating south.
She could still remember the night she’d left. She’d found out only a week before that he father had disowned her. He’d cut her out of the will and cancelled her trust fund. She had nothing.
She’d been standing in the doorway, hand in hand with Arthur, still naively believing that everything would be fine, despite her grief at her father’s actions. Pride had straightened her back, and lifted her chin. Her mother had surreptitiously taken her aside. “Molly. Here, its not much, but I’ve got as much as I can. A wedding present.” And had held out 100 Galleons. Molly had refused the money, out of pride alone. Arthur had been angry for a week after she told him.
Don't bother looking for what I've neglected to bring.
By the side of the stump where she told us these things
Two kids ran into the house; Ron and Ginny. “Mum! When’s dinner?”
She smiled at them and indicated that it would be 5 minutes, quickly looking again at her hands. She used to have a ring for each finger. Now she didn’t even have a wedding ring; they’d had to sell it.
Molly sighed, and kept cleaning. Everything was dirty. Including her hands.
If you hear a bell ring you get some wings.
She's fallen farther than feathers that float in the wind.
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