Life is a climb through rough terrain or a serene journey on a flowing river. It's an obstruction run in one phase and a quiet walk by a lake in another. It sinks to the bottom of the well one season and reaches the highest peak in a new one. Life carries on with joy and love of others but the constant reminder that nothing is forever leaves us feeling alone. This blog is to share stories of the lives of characters I have developed while contemplating on life's great journey.
My car and many more cars went through multitude revolutions as my hair
grayed and grandchildren came along. I transferred to the back seat and watched
the trees change from lush to colorful to bare to snow-laden to lush again.
A rumor of a morning hung out there, behind the dull shroud. A mist
rose from the lake to merge into the veil.Patches of light emerged in the midst of darkness while a scythe of a
moon lingered, overstaying its welcome. Birds blindly floated from branch to
branch, guiding their path through song.A gust flew in, steering the clouds away, parting the curtain for the
spot light of the morning, allowing the show to begin.
We pull into a space in a large parking lot
and I unfasten my seat restraint.The
door wouldn’t open from the inside, child safety lock still in place.My daughter steps out of her driving seat
and holds my door ajar.My feet touch the
hard concrete and she helps me pull my large behind up. I take the cane she
hands me and steady my stance on the firm surface.My three legs move forward with my daughter
beside me, holding my hand, matching my pace.
The building that welcomes us is large with an automatic
sliding door.We step into a grand
entryway with a large foyer and a reception desk on one side.A young man greets us and invites us to check
in at his desk.We take our seats facing
him, my cane leaning against his desk in one corner.My daughter lets go of my hand to pick up a
pen and sign the papers presented to her.My hand feels empty, cold, abandoned.I lean in to decipher the words on the paper, but my eyes betray me.All I see is little black ants crawling up
the page, moving in circles, down a line in single file.I bring my abandoned hand to a pen on the
desk and begin to fiddle with the instrument.Click click. Click click.The
young man and my daughter glance up at me and then at the pen.I’m at a loss as to what’s bothering
them?I don’t hear any irritating
Paperwork finally completed, we rise.The two young people fuss about me, handing
me my cane, pulling out the chair, holding my arm so I can rise up and steady
myself.We follow the young man across
the foyer through a hallway.As we reach
the end, I hear a cacophony of sounds as if a cocktail party is in session.A door swings open and we walk into a large
hall.There are people everywhere,
standing, walking, sitting on a sofa absorbed in a book, sitting around several
tables in midst of various games. I notice women in wheelchairs, men with
hearing aids, people with IV’s or oxygen tank next to their seat. Some hold
cards in their hand, others make much noise at the mahjong table. A group of
men and women are sitting in a corner by the fireplace, absorbed in a deep discussion,
each holding a book in their hands.
I turn to my daughter, look in her eyes and
nod.She smiles, kisses my
forehead, gives me a hug and promises to return in a few hours.
I felt the hard concrete under my feet as I stepped out of
my car.In the back seat my 3-year old
had already unbuckled her car-seat restraint and was attempting to open the
door.The child safety locks kept her
safely in, until I opened the door. She hopped out with both feet firmly on the
ground.We stood together, side by side looking
at the small building in front of us.I searched
for the entrance and spotted a small path leading up to the side of the
structure.I felt tiny fingers curl
around my hand and we followed our footsteps towards a new beginning.
The double doors were glass and heavy and I managed to get
my petite child through them without crushing any fingers or toes.A tall desk greeted us with a smiling face
behind it.I stood tall and peered over
the top of the desk for introductions and related the purpose of our visit. Kind
eyes looked at me with confusion.No new
child was expected that day and the owner had not arrived yet.I explained that I had spoken with the owner
and was asked to bring my child at the hour that the large clock behind her
chimed.The kind eyes nodded and
disappeared into a classroom with promise to return with an answer.
My daughter stood straight beside me, staring at the wooden
wall of the tall desk flat in front of her.I went on my tip-toes and tried to look over to the other side of the
desk, as if bobbing my head above water as my body and my child lay submerged. My
hand fidgeted in my purse for my planner to confirm the appointment date as my
feet shuffled to find a footing. I felt cool fingers on my arm and looked down
at the innocent face.My young child stood
calm in her blue, stone-washed cotton shorts with matching t-shirt, white socks
folded down to her ankles securing her tiny feet in denim shoes.
I attempted a smile and let her hold my hand.The second and then minute hands ticked away
as the delicate grasp in my hand became tighter and sweaty.I stroked her soft hair and squeezed her hand
The kind woman returned and reiterated that no one was aware
of a new child starting.However, Miss Katie’s
class can accommodate and I can guide my daughter towards the classroom.We turned, hand in hand taking tentative
steps towards the classroom.Cacophony of
little people voices vibrated out into the hallway through the open door.My little girl tightened her grip on my
finger and stopped mid-step.I looked
down into her dark eyes with a fan of long lashes.She tilted her head up towards me and
declared, “I…I will no cry.”
I smiled with quivering lips and allowed her to lead me to
her new class. After planting a kiss on her forehead and a big wave, I turned
and let the deluge flow.The kind voice
from the front desk and apologetic voice of the owner echoed around me.I nodded, smiled and waved to them, promising
to return in a few hours.