April 20, 2007
Stumbling upon a great site, Sunday Scribblings, I have words to offer the gentle reader. I graduated from Virginia Tech a few years back and confess that this week has been tougher emotionally than any I can remember. So this week’s inspirational boot got me moving in that direction.
She stands next to him holding lightly to a pinch of jacket. His face blank, glazed over. She moves her hand to his jacket pocket to find the warmth of his balled fist. The knotted knuckles unravel and welcome her touch as a slight smile alights on his face. She leans into him, wavering met by steadiness. He retreats to a different day, memory skipping through time’s vast waters and finding a gray island of recollection.
They brush on his face–butterfly kisses–and complement honeyed breath, soft cheek-to-cheek caresses. Tracing a circle in his hair his mother retreats and twirls in her dotted summer dress.
“Hey baby boy, it’s time to wake up.” She draws out the words, a continuation of her physical touch.
His eyes find her flowing shape and the knowingness of love floods through him. She pushes aside the curtains allowing rays of sunlight to fall on the bed, the sheets, his face. He arches his body upward stretching to the end of the bed feeling the coldness in the untouched places of the night. He remembers the significance of this day: his brother is coming home from traveling in Other Countries.
Mother leaves the room and he languidly slides his feet to the ground.
His eyes involuntarily close and he is back beside her cupping the soft hand in his jacket pocket and looking out onto a field of maroon and burnt orange. Points of candlelight sparkle in the growing dusk and someone starts to sing Amazing Grace. They lean into each other and support saltwater flowing from their eyes.