In Love and War

Before the last chapter of Farewell to Arms, i was led to believe that love and humanity will triumph and that war and loss will be forgotten. Escaping into a chalet in Switzerland, Hemingway painted a paradisiac setting where the two lovers breathe and move in heavenly air. I must be too blissful to recognize my ignorance when at the end of the story, this respite will be shattered by the natural death of Katherine and her baby. If i know any better a tragedy can strike at the most peaceful of places, with or without the war as the backdrop. I have to swallow my disappointment to an otherwise romantic ending but then again it is a war novel and, as most authors would have written it, it will claim life, regardless of the circumstances. There will be blood, maybe not on the battlefield, but somewhere or both.

A week ago, i was perched at our tree trimming the branches, when two police cars pulled up across the street. Then our neighbor in handcuffs emerged from the vehicle. She was in some sort of a bind as the Child Services people took her baby away.

Henry, Hemingway's main character, refused a ride to his hotel, and instead walked in the rain sucking the gloom and grief of the moment. A lot of times i will cross our front yard and notice our neighbor sitting in her porch, waiting and staring into a blank space. If i can predict the outcome of a real-life war, i hope my neighbor's war is only a truce for something redeeming in the end; i hope she gets her baby back soon.