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About This Author
A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!
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March 27th This item has been submitted for consideration in
March 27th
Becky had only been dead about two weeks. Heaven was certainly different from what she had expected. It wasn’t clouds or people dressed in white flying around with wings. It was more like essences and sometimes she recognized an essence, but most of the time she didn’t. Oh she did when it was one of the actuaries, couldn’t hardly NOT recognize one of them, but she’d always figured she’d be able to see (or at the very least find) people like her Mom and Dad.
“It doesn’t exactly work that way,” said the Incoming Actuary. He didn’t look as she’d expected either. He was more of a shimmery outline of an older, gray, bearded man, but there was no substance to him. There was nothing to touch. The only clear parts of him were his silver-blue eyes. “Oh, you will eventually, you’ll slip by them, but by that time, you may or may not even interact. You’ll see, but it takes time.”
“But I miss everyone back home, err down there, err well, you know what I mean.”
“You’ve only been here two weeks and a day by the way you look at time. Down there,” he nodded towards her conception of earth, “millennia have passed. It isn’t the way you remember it anymore.”
“Oh, you mean everyone I knew is now,” she paused, a perplexed look on her face, “dead?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t help it. I still miss my husband and coffee and my dog and my . . .”
“That will fade in time.”
“If that much time has passed, can I find my husband?”
“If you are meant to, you will. He has his own adjustments too, you know. Patience,” he counseled. “You have all the time in the world.”
“I wish I could go back, even for a few moments. I want to see colors and hear music. I want to see people who still look like people.”
“We have so much here that is so much more than those things. Wait. You will see and hear amazing music and colors beyond your current knowledge, but you are still not accepting of your being here yet.”
“Couldn’t I just see the way it was for a couple of minutes?
He thought about this and then nodded. “But you may only go for just a few moments here or there. Pick a day, a month and a day when there was nothing special going on; no birthdays or celebrations, no anniversaries or celebrations. Pick a normal day. I’ll decide the year. You won’t be anywhere for more than a few minutes, but I’ll give you that much over a few years.”
"I’ll pick, um, I’ll pick March 27th. I’ve always loved the Spring.”
March 27th 1963
Becky felt as if she were floating. Then she was up in the branches of her maple tree, the one she’d always climbed into when she was nine. She could see herself reading. Always did like reading. What book was I reading then?
The nine year old Becky moved a bit and Becky could see her younger self reading, “A Kingdom in a Horse.” She smiled. That used to be my favorite book and meeting the author of it was what started me on my journey to becoming an author.
Becky floated closer to her younger self who looked up and right through Becky. Suddenly Becky remembered that day and how, right then, she’d known she’d be a writer someday. How funny, she thought as the 'when' she was in blurred and faded out.
March 27th 1989
It was late at night and she saw her younger self weeping. “Oh, dad, I sure hope there’s a heaven. I wish you could still talk to me. I miss you so much! I need you, dad. I wish I could know for sure that you could still hear me or see me or something. Oh dad, if there is even a tiny way, could you try to let me know? I’d feel so much better. I know you weren’t going to get better and that now you aren’t hurting any more, but I just miss you so.”
Becky thought how she didn’t sound much different then than she did now. Every instinct urged her closer. Sounds funny, but I really wish I could give her, ah, me a hug! Becky drifted as close as she dared.
“Oh dad! For a moment it was if I felt you! I’ll be okay now, promise I will.”
As the night faded darker, Becky suddenly remembered that moment once again. It was me, she thought.
March 27th 2002
Springtime in Maine and the daffodils were nodding their golden heads as Becky and her mother walked out to the garden. “I’ve got it all worked out, Mom. A year from now, Sarah will be finishing her navy basic training. We’ll swing by Michigan and pick you up on our way to Sarah’s graduation from Boot camp.”
“I don’t think I’ll still be alive then, sweetie. That’s almost a year away. We’ll see what happens when that day comes.”
“Mom, don’t talk that way.”
Becky went totally still. Her mom had been right. She’d died a few weeks before Sarah had graduated and she hadn’t told her that her grandmother had passed away because she had enough to contend with getting through basic. She wisped here and there, smelling the daffodils and just listened to them talking of now inconsequential things. But I’m dead now. I know I can find mom again. And dad. I have too.
March 27th 2007
She saw herself sitting at her computer. She was on the website for the movie, “The Lake House” and writing herself an email into the future.
Becky remembered writing it and hoping she’d be married by the time she received it two years in the future. “You were,” she said. “You did marry him and you are so happy.” But of course, her then self couldn’t hear her. Becky slipped over to the other desk in the room and saw notes scribbled about a woodcarving project, bills and two day old birthday cards scattered on his desk. I wonder how he was after I died, she thought sadly as the room blurred around her.
March 27th 2010
This time, her younger self was outside, taking a walk with their dog, Bear. Nothing special was happening, just a nice time outside, enjoying a warm spell, although there was piles of snow alongside the road. She watched herself pick up the dog and spin around and around while saying, “Bear, I am so happy! My book’s coming out, Dad’s playing his drums again, and Sarah’s getting married next year! Life is so, so, SO good!”
Becky smiled as everything dissolved.
“Well, Rebeca, was it all you thought it might be?” asked the Incoming Actuary.
“Thank you and yes and it was even more! I realized that I actually helped myself back then, although I didn’t know it then. Funny the things that were important to me, and why. I do want to find my folks and my husband though. Maybe it will be different now, but I’d still like to.”
“Then you will, I am sure,” he said with a smile. “This is heaven, you know.”
1215 words
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© Copyright 2011 Fyn-elf (fyndorian at Writing.Com).
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