As for Sylvia, you could always find her in the kitchen. She was the most calm when her hands were busy. She especially liked making bread. It was one of the few things that she both enjoyed and felt was worthy of her attention. She liked watching the dough take form. In the early mixing stages it was a gooey mess that frustrated her, but under her consistent rolling and turning, became a tidy, obedient mass.
“If only life were so simple”
Musing to herself, smiling and remembering that life was that simple.
Those who knew her would come into her kitchen and sit by her hearth as she worked. Often heavy hearted they would come into her presence seeking refuge or enlightenment from lifes confusions.
Sylvia had the capability of delivering both a rebuke and a blessing in the same stroke. A warm listener, she welcomes the confessions of the despondent and could conjure metanoia. Her ease often made a confessor feel that Sylvia was something of an objective haven for their woes but on the contrary, she dared to challenge an attitude of indifference, guiding it towards conviction and decency.
Sylvia was keen on reminding a person that just because they happen to have a dispassion for morality, did not make them exempt from their responsibility to do what was good and right in this world on behalf of those whom they share it with.
She says what she means to, tailoring it for no one. She views the reproach she offers as a service or responsibility. Convinced that what she sees is truth, she is bound by God and heaven to bring it into light.
Things simply must be said, and they must be said simply.
She hated all of the “feeling” nonsense that was suddenly in fashion. It seemed the style for people to talk about their secret desires revealed in their dreams and the like. She believed Psychology was a form of witchcraft at its worst and a useless waste of time at its best.
“Psychologists…pft…”
She was heard muttering under her breath one evening as the eldest three gave audience to her speech.
“They’re not Scientists! They are Artists, Actors and Bohemians! All of this nonsense with the subconscious. I’ll tell you what! That Freud must be UNCONSIOUS if he thought we Breslyns were going to buy that steaming, stench heap! My God in heaven! Making up words like Ego this and Super Ego that…he sure had some Ego assuming everyone thinks the same sick way he does. Crazy do nothing man! He ought to be ashamed of himself…leading astray an entire generation of young people! Encouraging them to think all day on nothing but fornication!”
At which point Thomas let out a chuckle at his mother’s passionate rant.
“You wipe that smile off your face young man. I’ll not have any of mine indulging in any immoral extracurriculars!”
Now looking into Thomas’s eyes deeply.
“You know just what I’m referring to young man…"
Turning to the rest of her children.
"That goes for the lot of you heathen’s, don’t you think for one second that just because your father isn’t here you’ll be getting away with any indecency under this roof. No sir, Old Sylvia’s wise eh? Yes sir Sylvia is wise. To. That!”
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