I hear the train whistle blow in the distance and I know he is coming soon. I travel down the worn path that my memory knows so well. The dirty grass is tramped over by the years of wagon wheels and horses hooves. Everything is just like I left it fifteen years ago. The maple tree my son planted is almost as tall as the church, the ravine that once overfilled the land with wild flowers is now gone, lost in the progress of the town.
How everything has changed.
I feel my body growing weak and tired. The questions were endless. The worries were bountiful.
I am tired.
I am sad.
I am worn.
And he has left me.
Do you hear me? Do you! Don't you leave me! I tell him. Don't!
The train ride was long but the wagon ride is longer. My heart is filled with memories as I ride out of the town that I used to call my home. My hands clench the reins that are intertwined through my fingers.
I hear his voice as I pass by. He whispers to me, sounds that only my ears can here. He wraps me in his arms and pulls me down.
He is my Byron.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever, he tells me.
He kisses me and I kiss him back. His eyes are my soul and my soul is his life.
We talked of forever and forever is now.
I am keeping our forever alive.
I love you. He tells me. I'll love you forever.
I love you for always. I said crying into his shoulder. I'll love you for always.
His hands shakily find their way through my unkempt hair that is falling in my face and he looks in my glassy eyes.
He looks into my eyes. Eyes that he says unlocks his soul.
I believe you. He tells me. I believe you.
I walk down the cobble stones streets of Boston and I smell the food the vendors have for sale. Sweet treats my mother would scold me for having.
My father tells me the circus is coming and I hold his hand as we waft through the traffic. My father and I lead the way as my sister's tail behind like an entourage of Egyptians going toward their Mecca.
My father smiles down at me through his thin wire framed glasses. Picking me up in his arms he kisses my cheek.
We're almost there, Mike. We're almost there. He tells me.
I kick my legs in excitement and throw my hands around his neck.
I love you Daddy. I tell him.
I can hear the music and see the colors. They begin to surround me and I want to twirl in delight. I clutch my ticket in my hand and I look at my sister below.
They are talking with my mother. Four little girls all in a row.
Four daughters.
Four perfect girls.
Four sisters.
I turn away. I turn to my haven. I turn to my father.
We're almost there. I say.
I'm almost there.
The trees line the grassy knoll and my heart stops for a moment. I pull the reins in toward my chest.
The wagon stops.
I have to be strong. I can't stop now.
Forever.
I promised there would be a forever. He promised there would be a forever. I have to go back. I have to remember. I have to find it.
Michaela. I call her name in the darkness. Michaela.
I'm here. She replied. Her voice coming from the corner of the room. I can not see her face. But I know she is smiling for me.
Her smile will be my light in the darkness. Her smile will seep through my shadows.
Don't forget to go back. I tell her for the thousandth time. I forget that I tell her. But each time she hears she acts like it's the first.
She smoothes back my hair and looks into my eyes. I can see my reflection in the vast ness of the journey she must take.
I won't. She tells me. I won't.
I left it there for you. Things I couldn't say. I want you to know. I want you to feel it.
She cries again. I don't know where they come from. They land on my chest and sting me to the soul. I could drown in the tears she sheds for me.
No more tears. I try to tell her. But it's no use.
She loves me.
We walk through the gates and my eyes take in my surrounding like a baby looking at the world for the first time.
My sisters look one way and I look another.
Do you want to go in the gallery, Mike? My father asks.
I look back at my sister and I know they all want to see the clowns. The men with the bright faces and the funny shoes.
We are a family.
I look back toward the tent and see the beautiful pictures of far off places. My father knows I am struggling with my inner demons.
I'll see the clowns. I tell him. I'll see the men with the big noses and loud clothing.
My father holds my hand. Michaela and I are going to the gallery. He tells my mother. We'll be back in awhile. He winks at me and we walk toward the tent.
You don't have to pretend for me, Mike. You're my special little girl and you don't have to pretend.
I want to close my eyes but I'm fearful. He'll slip away when I'm not looking. My eyes look at him then back to the dark streets of Beacon Hill. My old life has come back to me. My old life is full of death. The reaper knocks on my door.
My father will take care of him. My father will take care of my life. My life on earth and my life that is leaving.
His home wraps me in warmth.
I am alone.
Matthew is in Denver
Colleen is in Philadelphia
Brian is in San Francisco
And our little Katie is ready to take her steps in the world. She is going to spread her wings and fly. She's going to fly like her mother.
She's going to leave her mother like her mother left her mother.
I'm going to end like I started. But I'll have the memories this time around.
The reaper knocks on my door. But it's not me who he wants. The reaper knocks on my door.
Look father! I grab his hand and lead him toward the portrait that caught my fancy. Look at the clouds. I gush. Look at the water and the mountains and the trees.
That's Pikes Peak. My father informs me.
Where's that? I asked. I'm full of amazement. Promising myself that someday I will visit such a mystical far off land.
Why that's in the west. Colorado Springs.
Colorado Springs. I let the name roll of my tongue like dancing in a ballet.
Come here, Mike. He picks me up. Look at this.
My eyes scan the picture taking in the breathtaking gardens. I read the marker. Buckingham Palace Gardens.
I want to take you there someday, Mike. My father tells me, his voice full of promises and hopes. We'll go on a Grand Tour. Just me and my special girl.
I smile at him and squirm to be let down. Come on father. I tell him. There is so much more to see! My mind rushes faster than my little feet can take me.
My father laughs as I push myself through the crowd looking at the portraits covering the walls. I stop when I see a portrait of a man.
Father? I ask. Why does that man have feathers on his head?
That's an Indian he tells me.
Indian. I repeat. In-di-an.
I smile at the man who looks so brave and sure. I smile at the man who will some day be a great leader.
I think you should have been born in the west. My father tells me. It has captured your heart.
I look at the land that once captured my heart. I see the wooden frame in the close distance. The wagon draws near. I draw near. It's the same.
But it's different.
Those are not my clothes on the line.
Those are not my curtains that hang in the window.
That is not my swing that sways to and fro.
Those are not our laughers that linger in the air.
I stop in front of my house.
No.
I stop in front of my memories.
I look up to the bedroom window. My eye squint against the sunlight and I know the rays are washing the hearth in a warm glow. I remember basking in them.
The steps are steep. I remember Katie taking her first spill. I remember sitting on those steps drinking coffee and planning my future. I remember loving him.
I waste no more time in the memories of the past. I knock on the door. I hear the patter of little feet running past.
I hear my past.
The door opens. The door with the glass window reflects my aged face before it is cast upon the young beauty.
Can I help you? She asked me.
My eyes look past her and into my memories.
Nothing has changed.
Nothing has moved.
I am back in time.
I tell her my name and I can tell she knows me not.
I am the original owner of this house. I reveal.
I own these memories.
I face my poet. My lover. My husband. My life. And I know they won't make it in time. By the time they come I will be gone. The promise I made to him means more than anything.
I hear the glass shatter in the distance. And I know.
I know.
Sully…
Did you like it Mike? Did you?
Oh yes, Father! I replied in joy. Taking one last look at the portrait of Pikes Peak.
I'm going to climb that mountain one day. I told him.
Walking out of the tent I held his hand. I'm going to climb that mountain one day. I repeated in my own silence.
We walked toward my mother and sisters that were sitting on the bench under the street lamp.
Took you long enough, Michaela. Marjorie stuck her tongue out at me.
I wanted to see the elephants but Rebecca said we had to wait for you! Claudette stomped her foot.
My sister erased the smile that was on my face.
Come along girls. My father told them. He looked and me and shrugged his shoulders and winked.
We had our special time. He whispered in my ear.
My mothers arm was looped through my fathers and Rebecca held his other hand.
Rebecca onto Maureen
Maureen onto Claudette
Claudette onto Marjorie
Their interlocked fingers swayed as they walked.
They swayed as I watched.
My hands were at my sides and my eyes touched everything.
Her hair was a fiery orange and she dressed in long layers of colors and beads. Her finger was out stretched beckoning me to come closer.
I looked at my father. He was talking to my mother.
I looked at the mysterious lady once more. I want to explore. I want to run free like the river in Colorado.
Like the white puffy clouds overshadowing my mountain.
Such a pretty little girl. She tells me. As I walk into her little tent. I am in a new world.
I tell you what's in your future. She smiles. Sit. Sit down.
I cast one last glace between the curtains and sit down.
Let me see your hands. She requests. I take them out of my pocket and place them in hers.
Such a pretty ring. The lady admired the stone.
My father gave it to me for Christmas. I told her.
She smiled at me and turned my hands around looking at my palms.
She took in a sharp breath and her eyes narrowed looking into mine. You are a special little girl. She tells me.
But sometimes that is not always good. Her voice turned deep.
I became afraid. I wanted my father.
You will know happiness and you will know death.
Death. My heart beats.
I am afraid.
Father! I cry out. Father.
Shhh… she waves her finger at me. He does not see what I do. I see your memories.
Michaela… she calls my name.
MICHALEA! I hear my name yelled again.
I jump from the table and a feel the lady grab my hand.
Let me go! I cry. Let me go!
I pull my hand from hers and rush out of the tent. She yells back at me.
The reaper knocks at your door little one.
Her eye grow sad and she looks down at the ring in her hand.
She turns it and looks at the engraving. M. A. Quinn.
Keep her memories little one. She throws it to a pair of blue eyes silently nestled in the corner.
Sully. I cry out.
He smiles at me. He smiles so beautifully.
I love you. He tells me.
Sully no! I need you! I hold his hand trying to give him my life.
He closes his eyes. All you need are the memories, Michaela. I loved you because you were strong. You fought your way to me.
You fought your dreams. His breath became shallow and before he took his last breath he whispered.
Fight your way to the memories…
I kissed him before he could no longer feel it.
I sealed our promise with the kiss of death.
I stepped in the house and back into my memories. Everything was just the way I left it. I remembered everything.
You used to own this house? The woman asked.
I twisted the ring on my finger. My husband build it for me. I told her.
This was my mother's house. She bought it fifteen years ago. The woman told me.
The woman grabbed my hand. It was warm and soft. Are you the doctor? Her eyes widened in question.
Yes. I trembled. It's been so long since I referred to myself that way.
My mother told me one day you would come. She said you were going to come back for your memories.
How did she- I stopped.
The woman looked at me and her griped tightened around my hand. My mother was special. She said.
Something about her words seemed familiar to me. Something ran threw my veins and I wanted to get away.
I'll only me a minute. I dropped her gaze and started up the stairs.
Everything.
Everything was the same.
It seemed as thought nothing was touched. It seemed as though she was frozen in time.
She was coming home from the clinic.
She was making dinner.
She was putting Katie to sleep.
She was wrapped in his arms.
She opened the door to her memories and she seemed like an intruder.
It wasn't their room anymore.
She remembered what he told her.
I build the house with love for you. So many memories we have made. Laying before the fire, the love we had just made. It's placed behind the brick, the one with the initials we carved that night. So full of love with the memories you will not fight.
I bend down before the hearth and my fingers touch the cold bricks. So many memories surge through my mind as I try to pry it away.
M & S carved so neatly in the center.
As the brick gives way a crisp white envelope remains. I pull it out and look at it.
Michaela
Michaela, is all it says.
I open the envelope and pull out the letter. Only a few words remain.
Not today
The reaper will not knock on your door today.
He will leave you with memories.
Memories that you no longer need to fight.
I fought them for you and they brought you to me.
I don't know what to do. His words don't make sense. I squeeze the letter and envelope between my hands when I hear something hit the floor.
Memories
I look down and pick it up.
Memories
Silver band with the small diamond stone.
Memories
M.A. Quinn
Memories
Memories that I no longer need to fight.