Post by goldenmyst on Aug 23, 2018 19:40:25 GMT -6
Door to Home
The late afternoon sun casts a golden hue on me as I pass through the sunflower forest. On either side of me, the flower heads wave in the wind as though acknowledging my passage. My husband of ten years has just died under the blades of a reaper.
My family cannot understand why I have walked away from the scene, not even weeping or showing any sign of emotion. However, the pain I feel is real. I simply cannot stand to see the body, which to me had represented the perfection of beauty in the male form, so mangled and distorted. Paul had reminded me of one of the statues of Apollo I’d seen in an art book back in high school. This is why I married him.
Strange, I thought how a mental image could exert so much influence on my choice of a mate. I wander past the mill pond and see the orange light sparkle on its surface as a breeze makes ripples through the calm waters. I sit on a tuft of grass by the shore and feel a deep peace fill my troubled heart. I feel guilty for feeling such serenity at such a tragic moment in my life.
I remember seeing Paul swim across the lake so long ago. His body looked sleek and strong. His physique had a symmetry which seemed to be perfect. His body had intrigued me like one of those perfect Pythagorean forms must have intrigued the ancient Greeks. As I sit by the pond, a lark sings in the tree above me. I feel the lark’s song fill me with melancholy. Yet still, not a single tear flows down my cheek.
Suddenly chest pains stab me. Am I having a heart attack? No, it’s just reality setting in. I hear a flutter of wings overhead. I am a widow now. God must be a real Screwing bastard to let this happen to me. I rip my skirt, exposing my panties for all the decent world to see. My black fleece brazenly pokes out from my undies. I tear my blouse to tatters with my bra my only concession to modesty.
Two weeks pass since Paul crossed the river Styx. I sink into my mattress and fall into a deep sleep. My mind reels out like a kite let go ascending into blue space. I float into a deep aqua sea of tranquility.
My dizzying lightness suspends me amongst a sea of stars. The stellar fields grow thick with light.
The points of light multiply like red clover in spring. An aura of warmth permeates my being with deep consolation. My mind expands into distant places of the past.
I gaze into remembered paths. On the edge of forever, I find myself at home. I stroll the fields where walked so long ago. I approach the house at the top of the hill which I’d once called home. My river of life was a golden thread winding past rocky cliffs. My dinghy was bashed leaving my body bobbing like driftwood, deep in cataracts, lost in time. My lifeline to safety was my maternal grandparents who berthed me in a peaceful home here love wrapped around me like a quilt in winter.
I feel the same instinct of Salmon as I follow the road uphill, homeward bound. I listen to a voice which sounds familiar yet far away as though heard in a seashell.
The porch swing sways in the breeze just like it did years ago in a different lifetime. The door is open and his face gazes out. With irrepressible joy, I climb the porch steps to his waiting arms.
My husband, Paul, hugs me with the undying love I’ve never forgotten. He holds my hand and
walks me across the living room.
Where my heart was tormented I feel peace. Having traversed the tempest-tossed sea, I am home again. My man embraces me with that strength he had when he was alive.
We sit together at the kitchen table and pray. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place. At last, I’ve come full circle.
He says, “Rosie, stay with me here. We can be together again, just like we were on earth.”
I reply, “Paul, I have bun in the oven. I’m pregnant. Our child needs me.”
He puts his hand on my face and brushes away a tear. He says, “Oh how I’d love to be there for the little tike. I wish I could join you down there again. But I don’t know how.”
I hold his face in my breasts. I say, “You’ll always have a place in my heart. At night I’ll send you messages of love. That is the best I can do my love. I am a mother.”
Paul pleads, “Rosie, your Grandpa Harry is here.
So is your Grandma, Margaret. They’re eager to see you. Your grandma leads a crochet class here. I remember you always wanted to learn that.”
The prospect of seeing my grandparents again fills me with joy. Paul leads me out into the yard. Dusk settles across the land. Fireflies flicker while floating ephemerally. They illuminate our backyard sanctuary. Grandma’s eyes twinkle with starry warmth as she sits with grandpa snapping beans. “Come join us” she welcomes me with a smile. We work together in the bond of love till evening shadows enfold us in the sacred night.
I sit in the lawn chair and grandma smiles her wry smile at me. I ask her, “Grandma, why do people have to die?”
Grandma gazes up at me. She says, “If people didn’t die there would be chaos on earth.”
Paul sits in a hammock between two trees. I join him there. We lie down together and sway. I kiss him to remember how his lips felt on mine. I say, “I’ll remember you when the whippoorwill sings. I’ll think of you when I swim in a lake. You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.”
He says, “Rosie, wait for me. We can be together again, just like we were on earth.”
I reply, “Paul, you know I cannot spend the rest of my days alone. I need a man. You sacrificed for
me. You got health insurance for me but not for yourself. You took a student job so that I could focus on my studies in nursing school. We didn’t see each other while I was cramming in all-nighters to be an R.N. But you didn’t resent me for leaving you alone all that time. I want you to know how much that meant to me.”
Paul gets teary-eyed. He says, “I’ll visit you in your dreams.”
I squeeze his shoulders and say “You better, or else when I get up here you’ll have to answer to me.
Let’s say goodbye now my true love.”
Suddenly, Paul looks distant and sad. I feel tears well out of my eyes. Paul reaches out to me, but his image is receding. I know that soon we will lose each other forever. Paul stands, reaches out his arms, and recedes. I look away and run until the scene fades. I awake in a cold sweat in my bed. My dream was lucid and real. But every fiber of my being tells me I must be here for my kid.
The late afternoon sun casts a golden hue on me as I pass through the sunflower forest. On either side of me, the flower heads wave in the wind as though acknowledging my passage. My husband of ten years has just died under the blades of a reaper.
My family cannot understand why I have walked away from the scene, not even weeping or showing any sign of emotion. However, the pain I feel is real. I simply cannot stand to see the body, which to me had represented the perfection of beauty in the male form, so mangled and distorted. Paul had reminded me of one of the statues of Apollo I’d seen in an art book back in high school. This is why I married him.
Strange, I thought how a mental image could exert so much influence on my choice of a mate. I wander past the mill pond and see the orange light sparkle on its surface as a breeze makes ripples through the calm waters. I sit on a tuft of grass by the shore and feel a deep peace fill my troubled heart. I feel guilty for feeling such serenity at such a tragic moment in my life.
I remember seeing Paul swim across the lake so long ago. His body looked sleek and strong. His physique had a symmetry which seemed to be perfect. His body had intrigued me like one of those perfect Pythagorean forms must have intrigued the ancient Greeks. As I sit by the pond, a lark sings in the tree above me. I feel the lark’s song fill me with melancholy. Yet still, not a single tear flows down my cheek.
Suddenly chest pains stab me. Am I having a heart attack? No, it’s just reality setting in. I hear a flutter of wings overhead. I am a widow now. God must be a real Screwing bastard to let this happen to me. I rip my skirt, exposing my panties for all the decent world to see. My black fleece brazenly pokes out from my undies. I tear my blouse to tatters with my bra my only concession to modesty.
Two weeks pass since Paul crossed the river Styx. I sink into my mattress and fall into a deep sleep. My mind reels out like a kite let go ascending into blue space. I float into a deep aqua sea of tranquility.
My dizzying lightness suspends me amongst a sea of stars. The stellar fields grow thick with light.
The points of light multiply like red clover in spring. An aura of warmth permeates my being with deep consolation. My mind expands into distant places of the past.
I gaze into remembered paths. On the edge of forever, I find myself at home. I stroll the fields where walked so long ago. I approach the house at the top of the hill which I’d once called home. My river of life was a golden thread winding past rocky cliffs. My dinghy was bashed leaving my body bobbing like driftwood, deep in cataracts, lost in time. My lifeline to safety was my maternal grandparents who berthed me in a peaceful home here love wrapped around me like a quilt in winter.
I feel the same instinct of Salmon as I follow the road uphill, homeward bound. I listen to a voice which sounds familiar yet far away as though heard in a seashell.
The porch swing sways in the breeze just like it did years ago in a different lifetime. The door is open and his face gazes out. With irrepressible joy, I climb the porch steps to his waiting arms.
My husband, Paul, hugs me with the undying love I’ve never forgotten. He holds my hand and
walks me across the living room.
Where my heart was tormented I feel peace. Having traversed the tempest-tossed sea, I am home again. My man embraces me with that strength he had when he was alive.
We sit together at the kitchen table and pray. The pieces of the puzzle fall into place. At last, I’ve come full circle.
He says, “Rosie, stay with me here. We can be together again, just like we were on earth.”
I reply, “Paul, I have bun in the oven. I’m pregnant. Our child needs me.”
He puts his hand on my face and brushes away a tear. He says, “Oh how I’d love to be there for the little tike. I wish I could join you down there again. But I don’t know how.”
I hold his face in my breasts. I say, “You’ll always have a place in my heart. At night I’ll send you messages of love. That is the best I can do my love. I am a mother.”
Paul pleads, “Rosie, your Grandpa Harry is here.
So is your Grandma, Margaret. They’re eager to see you. Your grandma leads a crochet class here. I remember you always wanted to learn that.”
The prospect of seeing my grandparents again fills me with joy. Paul leads me out into the yard. Dusk settles across the land. Fireflies flicker while floating ephemerally. They illuminate our backyard sanctuary. Grandma’s eyes twinkle with starry warmth as she sits with grandpa snapping beans. “Come join us” she welcomes me with a smile. We work together in the bond of love till evening shadows enfold us in the sacred night.
I sit in the lawn chair and grandma smiles her wry smile at me. I ask her, “Grandma, why do people have to die?”
Grandma gazes up at me. She says, “If people didn’t die there would be chaos on earth.”
Paul sits in a hammock between two trees. I join him there. We lie down together and sway. I kiss him to remember how his lips felt on mine. I say, “I’ll remember you when the whippoorwill sings. I’ll think of you when I swim in a lake. You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.”
He says, “Rosie, wait for me. We can be together again, just like we were on earth.”
I reply, “Paul, you know I cannot spend the rest of my days alone. I need a man. You sacrificed for
me. You got health insurance for me but not for yourself. You took a student job so that I could focus on my studies in nursing school. We didn’t see each other while I was cramming in all-nighters to be an R.N. But you didn’t resent me for leaving you alone all that time. I want you to know how much that meant to me.”
Paul gets teary-eyed. He says, “I’ll visit you in your dreams.”
I squeeze his shoulders and say “You better, or else when I get up here you’ll have to answer to me.
Let’s say goodbye now my true love.”
Suddenly, Paul looks distant and sad. I feel tears well out of my eyes. Paul reaches out to me, but his image is receding. I know that soon we will lose each other forever. Paul stands, reaches out his arms, and recedes. I look away and run until the scene fades. I awake in a cold sweat in my bed. My dream was lucid and real. But every fiber of my being tells me I must be here for my kid.
