I Had a Pearl - My Brightest Diamond
Many strange things did I behold
I had the favor of a queen and watched it turn to stone
I've kissed the lips of princes, fools and dreams
I walked a tightrope through the moonlight to the seven seas
I've seen silver headed Valentine
I carried up the swan kings gold and gave them thimble wine
I saw the old man time glisten before the end
I went down disappearing holes never seen again
I had a pearl and I lost it
I knew the bliss of the dawn and it faded
I saw her face turn away
and now I know that there is nothing so hard
I can't get over it
On eleven o' two I sailed a red hot balloon
to the snow capped mountains of Timorataloo
And when the owl stole my air for his last tune
I floated up to Pluto on a beam of the moon
I had a pearl and I lost it
I knew the bliss of the dawn and it faded
I saw her face turn away
and now I know that there is nothing so high
I can't get over it
The funeral had been a month ago, but for some reason she still expected to see Gran waiting for her by the window when the cab would pull up to the house. Sarah thought about this as she watched the countryside pass by. They were close enough to the coast that she could see it appear and disappear when the car reached a certain point on each of the lazy sloping hills the road was laid over. The days she could watch storms rolling in from the sea were her favorite.
What was it about this passing that seemed so unreal to Sarah? She had experienced loss a few times of her life of 26 years, but none of them were so hard to believe. Her grief wasn't presenting itself the way she thought it would, and she wasn't sure if or when it would come. It was like accidently cutting yourself, but it happens so quickly that you don't notice the extent of the damage. The blade was so sharp that she hadn't realized she had actually been cut open. Only when she felt unusual warmth spilling down her hand, would she find out how deep the wound reached.
And so, as Sarah waited for her stream of grief, she would concentrate looking after her Gran's house and packing up her belongings. Her stepmother had given her this task, worried for her emotional health. Sarah didn't mind, really. Actually, she had hoped it would kick-start the grieving process. It felt so unnatural to feel as calm as she was right now.
Some of her fondest memories were made in her Grandmother's modest country home, settled just miles from the coast and it's scenic cliffs. Sarah had always admired her Grandparent's place, though traveling there was a bit hectic, flying from the U.S. to Scotland. There was only one road that went past it, and she'd always felt bad for any cabby that took the task of driving them all the way out there. It used to be a farm, but much of the land around it was sold some time ago to the neighbors for their sheep to roam when her own relatives had gotten too old to care for their own herd.
It was the perfect place where she could fold in on herself and think.
Her memories of the Labyrinth and her friends there faded and collapsed piece by piece. Needless to say, she wasn't aware of what she'd lost, but there was still the feeling of having forgotten something important. This feeling took a certain toll on other areas in her life. She couldn't sleep, and when she did, dreams eluded her. Over the years she slowly lost them, and at the same time life began looking increasingly dull. Not that there weren't odd occurrences in her life. In fact, on a weekly basis she would wake up and her feet could be cold as ice. Sometimes she even found twigs or long grasses tangled in her hair. Sarah had suspected sleep walking on many occasions, but no one had ever seen her, and she never woke up in any other place than where she'd fallen asleep.
By the time the cab pulled up to the house the sun was already starting to set.
"Thank you." Sarah flashed the driver a weak smile and handed him the money she owed, as well as a generous tip. Standing with her bags beside her on the ground, she listened carefully as the vehicle drove off. Sarah took a long moment to imagine she was looking on at a house with the kitchen light showing through one of the windows, holding the promise of her Grandmother waiting up with tea and a picture of her Grandfather to keep her company.
The front door had always been a challenge to open. The wood had warped some over the years, causing it to get stuck. Leading with her shoulder, Sarah leaned her weight into the door, and finally managed to get it open. This conjured up images of her Grandmother, hooting and laughing as she barged through the door with her father carrying firewood. Both seemingly blown in by the harsh winter as their Jackets and scarves whipped about, then stopped abruptly as the door shut behind them.
Sarah stepped in. The space was untouched, the same. The only thing that grabbed her immediate attention was spot on the floor that did feel uneven under one of her shoes. She picked up her foot and found an envelope had been slipped under the door. No doubt it was note from the neighbor. In the dark she could just make out her name written in short, wobbly letters, familiar from many recipe cards she'd seen exchanged for her grandmother's own. Sarah kicked it aside; much too tired from her travels to read it this very second.
Sarah had decided to leave the lights off, letting her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. She wanted to see everything for the first time as the sun rose in the morning, slowly flooding the windows with soft, orange light. It was all so quiet, but that was strangely all right. She knocked three times on the wall just beyond the front door, listening for ghosts to knock back in greeting. Of course, her only greeting was from the old mantle clock in the next room, still ticking.
She did not bother wandering around, making her way up the dark stairway with her things in search of a bed to crumple on and lay for the rest of the night. After some thought, standing still and quiet in the hallway, she decided she would sleep in her Grandmother's room. The bed was still made. Dropping her bags just beyond the bedroom door, the woman threw off her jacket and her shoes, then sat down and fell to her back on the firm mattress. She rolled onto her side, curling into herself, staring at the floral patterns of the old wallpaper.
After a good fifteen minutes she finally stirred again, turning her face into the powder blue pillow her head rested on. Dark hair, sprawled out, followed her movement gently. The sound of a deep breath broke the silence. A familiar scent still comforting to the grown woman as it had when she was young and in her arms Gran's arms, nestling her (often tearful) face into a mess of grey hair. It felt like the first real breath she'd taken after holding it for a month. Sarah exhaled and continued to focus on little other than the wallpaper for the remainder of the night.
Sleep came, but not before the sun had long set, leading her and the rest of Scotland into the new morning. Before her eyes finally closed, she heard a Vixen's Scream, soon followed by elated gekkering as she and her mate reunited in a field nearby.