Chapter 16 The Weather Came

The weather came in the spring of the year the crack had been at the second peg for the second time, and it did not come as the rain comes, which is the thing the roof lets in and the back room takes, but it came as the storm comes, which is the thing the lane cannot take and the hill cannot hold, and the storm came up the valley in the night and put the sea over the house of Gort, and the water of the sea went into the kitchen and went over the boards and stood at the height of the legs, and the table stood in the water with the leaves in and the lamp out, and the count of the family went on in the end grain under the water, patient and unhurried, because the count is made of wood and the wood does not distinguish between the ones who stayed and the ones who left, and the water did not distinguish either, and the water went over the grain and the grain ran on under the water to the far end where the chair stood empty, and the chair stood empty in the water, and the water was at the height of the legs, and the legs held the table, and the table held the count, and the count held the family, and the family went on, which is what families do, and what the water does not do, because the water does not hold the family, the water goes over the family and the family goes on, and the grain goes on under the water, and the keeping goes on, patient and unhurried, like a river seen from a hill, running on to the sea at the far end where the chair stood empty in the water and the light did not reach it because the lamp was out and the water was at the height of the legs, and the legs held the table, and the table held the count, and the count held the family, and the family went on. Eamon and his mother came down to the kitchen in the morning when the water had gone back to the valley, and they found the table in the mud, and the mud was on the grain, and the grain had taken the mud the way it took the oil, and the oil had not been put on the grain that week because the week had been the Thursday evening of the storm, and the storm had come in the night, and the men of the town had gone to the valley with their things, and the kitchen of Gort had stood empty in the night with the lamp out and the water coming up the hill, and the water had come to the kitchen, and the kitchen had taken the water, and the water had gone over the boards and stood at the height of the legs, and the legs had held the table, and the table had held the count, and the count had held the family, and the family had gone to the valley, and the valley had gone back to the sea, and the sea had gone back to the water of the storm, and the storm had gone on, patient and unhurried, like the weather does, and the grain ran on under the mud to the far end where the chair stood empty, and the mud was on the grain, and the grain had taken the mud the way it took the oil, and the taking was the wearing, and the wearing was the count, and the count was the family, seated and unseated, one after another, around the one long thing the house had never replaced, and the table stood in the mud of the kitchen of Gort with the leaves in and the pegs turned home, and the blue cups were on the shelf above the range, dry, because the water had not reached the shelf, and the chipped one was at its pair, and the tin was in the drawer, dry, because the drawer was at the range and the range was at the wall and the wall had held the water, and the water had gone over the boards and not over the wall, and the wall had held the keeping, and the keeping was the thing, and the thing was kept, and the grain ran on under the mud to the far end where the chair stood empty, and the far end of the boards was the keeping, and the keeping was the thing, and the thing was kept, and the family went on, which is what families do, and what the water does not do, because the water goes over the family and the family goes on, and the grain goes on under the mud, and the keeping goes on, patient and unhurried, like a river seen from a hill, running on to the sea at the far end where the chair stood empty and the light did not reach it because the lamp was out and the mud was on the grain, and the grain ran on. They did not oil the table in the spring, because the oiling was for the grain and the grain was under the mud, and they washed the mud off the boards with the water from the valley, and the water of the valley went over the boards and took the mud the way the storm had taken the kitchen, and the grain ran on under the washing to the far end where the chair stood empty, and the mud went off the boards in the water, and the water went off the boards in the valley, and the valley went back to the sea, and the sea went back to the storm, and the storm went on, patient and unhurried, like the weather does, and the grain ran on, and the keeping went on, and the family went on, which is what families do, and what the weather does not do, because the weather goes over the family and the family goes on, and the grain goes on under the mud, and the keeping goes on, and the count goes on in the end grain, patient and unhurried, and the half-letter held the name that had never been finished, and the chipped cup was at its pair on the shelf above the range, dry, and the tin was in the drawer, dry, and the money of the roof was in the tin, and the money of the roof went to the lane the next day, and the lane went hard over the hill to the house of Gort, and the house of Gort held the table, and the table held the count, and the count held the family, and the family went on, which is what families do, and what the weather does not do, because the weather goes over the family and the family goes on, and the grain goes on, and the keeping goes on, patient and unhurried, like a river seen from a hill, running on to the sea at the far end where the chair stood empty and the light did not reach it because the lamp was out and the mud was on the grain, and the grain ran on, and the keeping went on, and the thing was kept, and the keeping was the thing.