A Gypsy woman.

Chapter one.

CHAPTER ONE

You know those mornings when you wake up and everything just seems right in the world. The birds outside are singing. The trees around you sway, and the sun looks up over hills and just smiles at you, as if to say “everything is going to be fine!” 

That was my morning. I woke up early the sun shining through the Red Canvas of my tent.  I’d stretched and smiled as I smelled the morning air. Filled with wild flowers, and dew, and the antagonizing smell of some mother’s morning meal.

I lifted myself up of my little bed, and reached over for the mirror. The sacred glass, framed by Intricate vines of gold and little blue birds singing on the rim. I smile at this mirror, and inhale the scent of it.

I hold on to it, because it was my mothers.  Every day she’d wake up, look into and make a wish on the thing.  She was convinced it was magic you see.  I’d love for her to tell me the story of how she got it, when I was a girl.

She’d said my father had gotten it for her, on the day they’d met, they’d been walking and laughing together for hours down town where the gypsy rule the pubs and bars, and they had passed a gypsy woman. A fortune teller. My mother had stopped in front of her. “Buy me a vision?” she had said. But he had laughed. “You believe in this?” He had asked mocking. She gave him an annoyed look and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Don’t you?” she’d challenged.  He’d scoffed. “I am gypsy! I know a con when I see one! Magic, visions, fortunes there all cons!” he says. She’d pursed her lips. “It is no con sir! I assure you!” she’d said angrily. And he’d seen the fierceness in her eyes and out of seer intimidation paid for not only her fortune told, but the magical mirror from the woman. It wasn’t a traditionally romantic story, but it was the perfect story for them.

She’d held onto that mirror long after He’d left, and wished into it every day. And I’d I keep the tradition alive.

Today’s wish, was simple, That Dee would give me my chance today. That I’d succeed in whatever job I’d get, and that Lian will be back soon.

It kills me when he is away. he Is my ‘cousin” my family in the metaphorical sense, as all the people In our Clan are “cousins” and family. We are proud Gypsies, we are Italians and we are in the greatest sense family.

We stay together! We help one another and Ban together against those who threaten our way of life.

 Lately there have been more threats on our land.  The people who look down on us, the city-dwellers, they say we do not own this land. They threaten to force us out, any way they can.

It has not escalated to violence yet, but I fear it may soon come to that.

That is why I spend every hour of night I can sitting outside my tent by the fire, looking out past the hills for Emilian. The boy I have known since birth. The very son of our Great leader himself.  I look back at my reflection then and pray to my sweet wishing mirror that he will come back safely! And soon.

This is my daily wish, and has been every day that he has been gone.

I Delicately place My mirror back into My trunk and pull myself out of my bed, to find my way out of my tent.

As I open the flap of my little home, I am welcomed by the busyness of my home.

People walk by my door smiling. Women carrying baskets, men off to work in town, and children playing rousing games of tag amongst themselves.

I smile as Timo, and his little brother Seva walk past. I crouch behind them as they walk, they haven’t noticed me yet and I take this opportunity I can to pay these boys back for all the trouble they cause me.