The Ferocity of Love

‘My little grandson…We is the only two left in the world. He suffer and it don't seem to put him back at all. He got a sweet look. He going to last. … I remembers so plain now. I not going to forget him again, no, the whole enduring time. I could tell him from all the others in creation.’

Here, Phoenix speaks to the nurse at the hospital just as she recovers and remembers why she has made her long journey. This is the moment that Phoenix reveals the true purpose of her long and arduous trip, why she has crawled through barbed wire and bravely faced down the gun of a white man. She shows here that she is driven by the depth of her love for her grandson. Her words indicate that everything she does is for him and that her grandson is the reason she is determined to battle all the obstacles she faces, from racism and poverty to dementia and death. 

I’m going to the store and buy my child a little windmill they sells, made out of paper. He going to find it hard to believe there such a thing in the world. I’ll march myself back where he waiting, holding it straight up in this hand.

These are the last lines Phoenix speaks in “A Worn Path,” and they give insight into all she dreams of for her grandson. More than just wanting him to survive his perpetual illness, she wants to bring him proof of beauty and wonder in the world. The reason it may be hard for him to believe that there’s such a thing as a pretty, fragile paper windmill is that her grandson’s life is so difficult. Though it would make sense for her to spend those two hard-won nickels on food or other necessities, the love she feels for her grandson drives her to bring him hope in a bleak world.

Versions of Reality

She did not dare to close her eyes, and when a little boy brought her a plate with a slice of marble-cake on it she spoke to him. 'That would be acceptable,' she said. But when she went to take it there was just her own hand in the air.

In this scene, Phoenix has just crossed the creek, though she previously believed that she wouldn’t be able to pass the dangerous makeshift bridge. She is resting, though Welty makes it clear she’s not asleep when she has her vision. Instead, she has slipped into an alternate version of reality, perhaps spurred by the dementia of her old age or a sort of fever dream of exhaustion. The marble-cake, brought to her by someone else, is a dream of decadence, of plenty, and of rest, and is in stark contrast to the bare, arduous path she travels.

She entered a door, and there she saw nailed up on the wall the document that had been stamped with the gold seal and framed in the gold frame, which matched the dream that was hung up in her head.

This moment occurs just as Phoenix reaches her destination. It marks a clear shift in her demeanor because as soon as she sees the document on the wall that matches her dream, she momentarily forgets why she made her journey. This moment, of reaching her goal and submitting to the exhaustion she has been battling, emphasizes how much of Phoenix’s survival is tied to sheer force of will. At the hospital that is the key to her grandson’s health, she initially can only feel the tremendous cost of the journey on her body and mind.