Finally

In the end, he just walked away.

The Dog

The ole white-haird guy trudged thru the snow with his arms full of wood from the shed outside, wondering about how he brought himself to be here, of all places. Looking back over his shoulder as he walked across his one-room home, he chided himself for not remembering to stomp the snow off his boots before he came inside.

The Empty Rocker

Tina

I sit in this rocker, thinking as I often do.  Where did the years go?  It seems only yesterday I held my baby for the first time,  and now, in  a few hours, she’ll be bringing my grandchildren to see me.  Closing my eyes, a sigh escapes me. What has happened to all the years.? 

The steady sound of the rocking on the wooden planks serves as a calming lullaby…


I always get up this early, a habit started some time ago. I don’t want to miss a moment of the day.  Time is too fleeting, and the older I’ve become,  the faster time has seemed to go.

It must be about four,  now, I hear the birds waking.

It reminds me of  when my son was a baby.   I would be up long before the birds each and every day to give him his breakfast.  The memory of that soft little body pressed up against my breast, watching him eat and praying for him to grow strong, to know what love was, what love is, and rocking him! 

I wonder where the years have gone.   I’ve lived a good life, compared to all the lives lead. I’ve loved.  I’ve loved tremendously.   I have been loved.


My children come to see me every Sunday, and in true mommy fashion, I cook them a feast that reminds them of a time when their lives were slow.  If you ask me, I think that is what they enjoy the most, not the food (although I still can fry some serious chicken.)  It’s the remembrance of  when time was slow.  I marvel at the fact that I still can give them that peace they so desperately craved when they were young. 

For now, the world is quiet the sun has yet to crack the sky. All I can hear is the distant cars making their way into the big city and of course the beloved birds.  I have time to sit and rock a little longer. Tilting my head to the side,  I look at the other rocker, the empty one.

Where have the years gone?

It seemed, then,  that choices were in abundance and time was a friend, not an ever-advancing enemy to be fought with every turn of my mind.  I never used to see that chair empty, not when I was that little girl playing hop scotch on North Coloma Road. A tear slid down my cheek as I rocked and stared at the other rocker.
I  never saw that rocker empty, not when I was an idealistic young women, determined to change the world with my wondrous views.

Another tear rolled down my face.

No, never did it occur to me that you would choose another path;  that the rocker sitting beside me,  made especially for you, would be empty. Were we not suppose to hold hands as we drank our coffee so early in the morning?  Were we not suppose to enjoy the quiet before the onslaught of all our children?

Choices.

I let the tears fall.

I never dreamed you would choose a different path, and that  the rocker would remain empty…much like the room behind my heart,  full of memories yet empty.

Where have all the years gone?


Unc



The old guy sips at his first cup of coffee…and sits down on the top step of his front porch to enjoy the beginning of the day. 

He doesn’t pay any attention to the time any longer, what would be the point? But it’s early.  He’s always been an early riser, he thinks, having an actual belief that morning is the best time of the day.

The silence of the early morning envelopes him. Comforting and warming to his heart, somehow, yet also emphasizing his loneliness.  There’s no real reason to get up early any more; he has no where to go, nothing to do when he gets there.

Habit, he would think if he gave it any thought, which he doesn’t.  It’s just what he does.

Looking across the way, he can see that she is up early too, rocking slowly and enjoying her coffee.  Always up early, sometimes even before he is.

He’s often thought of going over there and introducing himself, but somehow in the daylight and the heat and she’s always busy, it just hasn’t seemed right, somehow.  He wouldn’t want to intrude on her.

This time of the day is about the only time she’s not busy, always working in her garden or messing around in the kitchen, but he’d just frighten her going over in the dark like this.

So he sits and watches.

It’s not like he spies on her, but it warms him quietly to visit her life as he has been doing. She seems to have so much of it,  he thought she’d never miss the little bit of it he enjoys.  She has so much she just seems to glow.

...her garden...and he can see that the inside of her home is full of more plants...her kids...her grand babies.

Her life is so full.

He thinks that it must be nice to be surrounded by love like that; to have someone who loves you and, more important, to have someone to love;  to not be alone.

He thinks he must have been loved some time. He thinks he must have loved.  He gets shadows of feelings and memories, but they’re fleeting and, truthfully, he can’t really tell if they are real echoes of the life he had before the accident; before his memory and the life he must have had were ground out of his mind...or just echoes of scar tissue.

Not that it matters any more. Too long ago now.

He finishes his coffee and looks at her again, quietly rocking and sipping her coffee (or maybe it was tea.)  He’s happy that she’s not lonely and alone.  Again he thinks it might be nice to introduce himself. He thinks it might be nice to sit in that other rocker over across the way and talk to her.


But talk to her about what?

And he’d just end up upsetting her; he does that to people pretty often.

As his tears begin to flow again,  he gets up and shuffles back inside.

Tina

Don’t go, Please don’t go…It nearly escapes her throat this time.

She wonders as she sits there if he knows that she sees him. She watches him and it brings such a light to her heart.  One she has not felt in such a long time.


Each morning while she sits there and makes the mental list of all she has to do for the day, she watches to see if he will open his door and walk down the steps.

Sighs escape her. 

He stops and sits, sitting quietly just watching.

She wants to call over to him, invite him to come and join her. Spend a little time just talking. Maybe an hour time;  enough for another cup of coffee.

If only he would, she just knows he would have fascinating stories to tell of his life lived. She imagined him to be a wonderful writer, one who has impressed many with his gift.

She looses herself in the thoughts of the sound of his laughter and the rough of his hand as he would take hers.


Just thoughts.

...shaking her head at how quickly she looses herself in these thoughts of him and "what if?"

Yes, her life was full. She had her home, the gardens, the house that looked like the jungle, but something was missing.

Glancing over at the empty rocker, the tears slide once more and she gazes through the roses and Jasmine to see him.

The fist vestiges of sunrise making a prism on his face  Would he come to talk if she dared to ask him?  There just seems such a sadness about him, something she wants so desperately to touch. But she wonders would he want that interrupted, would she just be a bother?

There is always noise at her home, children laughing, the occasional argument over who’s stereo was louder.  He seems such a peaceful spirit and maybe he would not like the sloppy kisses of a baby.

Still she wonders. What if she just called over one day.

Would you please come and sit with me?   I’ve made coffee.

Something missing, talking…touching, she remembers what it is now;  to be a part of a life shared. To hear him tell her of his life, his day. Simply to share stories of  "how life used to be."


She watches him go back inside his home and her heart aches.

If only he knew that there was something missing, would he come and sit with her and talk for a while?

Unc

Who the hell is knocking on my door at this hour?

He yanked the door open, and  there she was, standing right at his door, with two steaming cups of coffee. 


Flummoxed, instead of inviting her inside, he smiled at her, took his cup of coffee, and turned her around to sit with him on the top step of his porch.  She started talking then, and hasn’t stopped since.

He thinks it’s just as well that he can’t remember his life now, he wouldn’t get a chance to say anything about it anyway...But her voice is music to him, full of laughter and bells and music, and though her yammering never stops he enjoys being wrapped in it.
…

He can’t keep track of time very well any more, but he’s been living across the way from his house, now,  with Tina, for some time.  He’s begun thinking he may as well sell his house,  and would like to talk about it with her, but that would mean she’d have to take a breath so he could have his chance.  Besides, she’d just smile at him and touch his cheek and tell him whatever he wanted would be fine.

It makes him toast inside the way she supports him like that.

Whatever you want, baby…

It is nice to be loved.  He thought it would be.

Side by side every morning, now, in those rocking chairs, sipping their hot, rich coffee every day.  He does miss  the quiet of those mornings, but listening to her yammer (whatever she's saying) is music to him, her love…yeah, love…washing over him every morning.

The squirming fat little baby on his lap brings him back to now.  Which one was this?  They were all cute, but he can’t tell one from the other yet.  Kissing her on the top of her little head full of tight curls, he feels the warmth spreading over his lap.

Oh, for Christ’s sake, Tina, this kid just pissed all over me.

Tina?  TINA! 

Bah! Like she could hear me! he thinks, as he lurches out of the rocker and heads off to the bedroom, baby tucked under his arm.

It is kinda fun to change a baby…he thinks he must have done this quite a bit before.

Tina

She hears him calling her.  How could she not, such a strong voice.

OH no,  she won’t run to the rescue with this one. He will do just fine. She’s watched him with the babies. It’s as if he he’s done it a thousand times. Babies just seem to light his heart like no other.

Standing in the doorway,  she watches him as he cleans her up, gentle hands he has with her. Such love she sees in his face.  He talks softly to her, telling her of a time long ago, a time he sometimes forgets to remember.

Walking up behind him, as he scoops the now fresh little one up,  she puts her arms around him and holds him tight.  Have I told you lately, how thankful I am that you took that coffee from me?

Turning around he gives her the brightest of smiles and were he never to say the words, she feels it spread through her body. The Love.  What was missing from her life, is no longer gone She worries sometimes that her incessant questioning and talking will drive him away, but each morning he is there in that rocker.

He takes her arm and leads her back outside, handing her the baby to place in the crib while they wait for mommy to come by.

She goes back to the kitchen to make sure that supper is not burning and when she returns he has pulled the rockers closer together.

Come sit with me Love.

Taking her seat close to him, she marvels at his handsomeness. He offers his hand.  Taking it with a smile on her lips, she wonders if now would be a good time to ask him.   But how could she, how could she ask him to give up something that was his. His life, would he want to?

Instead he asks her, Tina, what made you come to my door so many years ago?

My heart, I followed my heart. I only wanted to know for sure, what I knew in my heart. That that rocker was meant for you.

He smiles at her, bringing her hand to his lips. I could deny you nothing he whispers into her fingers.

She leans close to him, in a nearly whispered voice…

Will you stay here with me, with us, complete our family. Maybe sell the house?
I know we are a noisy bunch, and I know the babies well they can be messy, as she looks at his still wet lap and smiles…

Unc

The babies are big now.  He missed the fat little things, but it was nice to have dry pants most of the time.
The people across the way that bought his house had two kids now.

He sat on the front porch with his coffee this early morning,  watching Tina set out some tulip bulbs, he thought they were. She was never happier than when working in her garden, never using gloves, her hands covered with the rich, dark soil, fingernails black, always that smile.
…
He had to talk to her about it, but he didn’t know how. They’d been so happy these years;  she had been so happy.  It was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.  He had avoided hurting her all these years, however many there had been, but this was unavoidable.  He needed to get her attention and try and make her understand before it was too late.

He sipped his coffee, the pressure of what was ahead nearly crushing his chest.

He knew exactly what she would do, what she would say.
She’d cry and hold him.  They’d cry together.

And then thru that smile she’d tell him not to worry, she’d be just fine. He’d be just fine.

...


No, neither one of us will be fine.

It had begun already, some days worse than others. So far he’d been able to cover it up, other times she hadn’t noticed.  And some days were just fine.

But it was stalking him, relentless and powerful, coming for him, coming for the memories he and Tina had made together. Coming to take him away.

Coming to slap her aside.

Coming to hurt her…and there was nothing he could do about it but warn her.

Already there were times when he didn’t know where he was. They  didn’t last long, but they  were  real.  Times when he couldn’t remember her name, for Christ’s sake.  He wasn’t about to put her thru the full course of this ugliness;  he was going to take care of that.

She smiled and sat down next to him, wiping the soil off her hands, noticing his tears.
What, baby? What?

“Remember me when I am gone away…gone far away into the silent land…”

Tina

Gasping she raised her hand to her face, shoulders slumped forward, covering her eyes, a sob escapes her.

“Remember me when I am gone away…”closing her eyes as the tears burn trails down her face. “Gone far away into the silent land…” and the tears became a silent river she can not stop.

No, no, Greg.

I can not, I won’t allow you to do this.


NO!

Shaking from the fear of what she knew, what she had always known. She was surprised that it had taken him this long to come to her. 

Yes, she noticed.

She noticed each time, but hadn’t they discussed this very thing years before? Long before, in the early morning sunrise.  She had played that conversation in her head many times. She had cried silent tears into his chest late at night, quickly to dry them, least he wake and see that she knows.

It was not the knowing that tormented her. No, she was strong, she had been through battles of life that only few can imagine.

It was not the sickness that terrified her so;  that bound her spirit at times.

It was that conversation.

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

As if taking himself from our family, from OUR love, was the answer. To spare what?  To spare her pain?

She raised her eyes to him and the love, the love he poured on her.OH, how it filled her soul, just to see him smile.  To feel his touch, to know the music of his laughter. Had she not told him many times I could listen to you talk and laugh all day?  Did she not ask him to call her baby each night before they slept?

She knew what was to be stolen violently from them. She had studied it, the new drugs, treatments, what to expect. Oh she knew the vile  thing, this darkness,  did to a person.

Yet, when she touched his cheek, looked deep into his eyes and smiled, she decided to tell him the truth.

Then to trust His decision.

He took her hands and kissed them, holding them to his lips as the last tears fell from his eyes.

Baby, I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but the way you look at me, the love I see. I just…

Closing her eyes and leaning close to him she kisses those tears away.

This is not right and it is not fair, but, I will stand behind your decision.  I trust you, as  I’ve trusted no other. Before you make that final decision, I want to tell you this. What of the pain, when you are no longer here? We could have had many more years, even with the memories going. Do you think that is all that this family wants of you?

…pleading with her eyes that he understand her selfishness and not push her away...

We need the laughter of you, we need the gentle touch. Years I’ve waited for this love. Years I’ve waited and now  the horrors of life threaten it. Lowering her eyes, the emotions pulling on her in a violent tug of war. Understanding of what he wants to do and the desire to scream,

NO!


Time is not here yet.

Unc

She awoke abruptly, knowing that he wasn’t next to her.  She got out of bed laughing to herself. It was almost impossible to beat him out of bed any more.

In the kitchen,  his coffee maker was still hot, so he hadn’t been up too long.

Front door open, screen door closed, so he was already enjoying his coffee on the porch this morning.

She smiled as she brewed up a cup for herself. Thru everything, he had maintained his insistence that coffee be made one cup at a time from beans that had just been ground.

Funny what remained.

She took her coffee out on the porch, and there he was across the road, sitting on the top step of his old house again.

She started for him, then stopped and went back into the bedroom for them, tucking them under her arm.

Come on, sweetie, you’re at your old house. Ours is across the way.

He grinned at her, his eyes flat.

Here, baby, let me help you on with your pants. It’s cold out this morning.

He seemed to forget about  getting dressed pretty often. She suppressed a chuckle…

Docile, always docile, he went with her to their porch.  She tucked a blanket over his lap and sat beside him to enjoy their coffee together.

She looked back over her shoulder at their life together only early in the morning like this, with the birds just waking and things calm and quiet.

…

In the end,  he gave her what she wanted; he’d never been able to say “no” to her.  He was still here with her.

But he had been right.

It came for him with a vengeance, pawing the ground and chewing up his mind and life without a backwards glance.

His periods of lucidity were fewer and fewer now, but she lived for them when they came. The irony was like a razor.  His first  life taken from him in some sort of accident, and now his second taken from him…and her…by this disgusting thing.

Baby, are you hungry? Why don’t I o fix us some breakfast? How about your favorite, my biscuits and some sausage gravy, d another cup of coffee?

She smiled at him.  He nodded and grinned at her, but said nothing.  He doesn’t talk so much any more.

I know you love them, handsome. I’ll be right back. You just enjoy your coffee.

Nearly inside the house, screen door closing...

Tina?

That’ HIS voice she thinks as she turns and comes back out on the porch.

What, baby?

She can see HIM in his eyes now. He's with her, blue eyes alive again, tears cascading down his unshaven cheeks.

I love you, Tina.

I know you do, handsome. What's wrong?

Hold me, Tina, please.

She wraps him in her arms, covering his face with kisses, trying to staunch his sobs.

Hold me, baby.  I dont think I can come back again...

And he was right about that, too.

EPILOGUE:

About a year after he died, a young woman came to the front door. A pretty thing with long brown hair and a smile that ate up her face, and those big brown eyes. Something familiar about those eyes...

Drying her hands, Tina asked if there was something she could do for her.

Yes, ma'am. I think you were married to my daddy.

It seems that he had gone to work one day nearly twenty years ago, and just never came back. His baby had been trying to track him down for years, and eventually she found him.

She stayed with Tina for nearly two weeks,  each learning all they could about him. Opening his other life for each other.

She calls a couple times a week, now, and visits three or four times a year.

On her knees weeding her garden she looks across the street at his old house, almost able to see him sitting on his porch again.

Oh, baby, you may have died not knowing who I was...

...but I'll die knowing who YOU were...



end