| Escaping Life |
| She walked out to the car, her face a collage of emotion. Before closing the door she had one final look at the building where she lived. She turned the key, starting the ignition, and moved the car forward. Operating the vehicle without conscious thought, her mind was occupied with the confining walls that had been built up around her—a waitressing job that required too many hours with too little pay; a different boyfriend every month; a child that never met its real mother; an apartment used only for sleep, with photographs scattered over every surface reminiscent of the days when she had dreamed of being a photographer. Her parents had told her to forget about it; she would never accomplish anything taking pictures. She hadn’t listened to them. She had pursued her dream, had studied and practiced, only to find that they were right; she didn’t accomplish anything. So now here she was, getting away from all the disappointments. Going out to her grandparents’ old farm, she planned to rethink everything, to decide where she wanted to be and what she wanted to be doing. She glanced up at the tall buildings of the city as she drove down the main highway. To her mind they seemed to be closing in all around, trying to intimidate her into staying. But she just couldn’t stay, not in this excuse-for-a-life she was living. For two hours panic fought to sway her resolve, then at last the city cleared away behind her and she was free. It would take another three and a half hours to reach the farm, but she wasn’t bothered by it. Her troubles seemed to drift and fade away the further she went from the city limits. Slowly she relaxed into her surroundings. Rolling down her window she breathed deeply of the cool fresh air. As time passed and she drew closer to her destination her excitement mounted. There was still a clear picture in her mind of the last time she had been here with her grandparents. Her grandmother had been baking bread, her grandfather building a crackling fire. She had sat there, watching intently, absently twirling a seed from a tree in her fingers… Why do plants have seeds grandpa? |
| So that people will have food and so that new plants will grow. Why are the seeds so little? Not all seeds are little; some are big. But why are the little ones so little? Why are little girls little? Because they haven’t gotten big yet! So maybe the little seeds are little because they haven’t gotten big yet either. Oh. When will they get big? When they grow up into the plant they are supposed to be. She smiled in satisfaction and jumped to her feet, smelling the fresh bread from the oven. Grandma! Grandma! Is it ready yet? Is it ready? Yes, it’s ready young’un, come and get some. The warm bread, with butter melted over it, tasted wonderful in her mouth. This is the best Grandma! The memory filled her with warmth and she knew that the place would be welcoming even if her grandparents had been dead for several years. This thought stayed with her for the rest of the drive. It was about four in the afternoon when she arrived at the house. She slowly brought her car over the bridge linking the drive to the main road, wanting to have a good look around and take everything in. It had been so many years since she had last been here--since anyone had been here. The yard plants were all over grown. The paint was cracked and peeling from the walls. The welcome mat was so faded that she knew its text only from memory. Smile! You are welcome! The disrepair saddened her. This had been such a happy, lively place. She swallowed back her tears and entered the first room. It greeted her with clouds of dust, billowing into the air, seeming almost angry at the disturbance of its calm rest. Her steps left a trail of footprints as she wandered through, seeing glimpses of past happy times. She thought about the house and her life, comparing the broken down building with her shattered life’s dreams. Perhaps she should take care of the old place, bring it back to life. Maybe it would give her the strength she needed to bring back some life into herself. She went back to her car and brought out her stuff, setting them on the floor in the living room. Testing the lights, she discovered they had ceased to function. She got out some candles for use after dark, and then went to find a rag to start dusting; that would probably help quite a bit. The water was no longer running either; however, there was a hand pump around back where she could use to get some. It wasn’t the best quality water and it was freezing cold, but it was water and was clean enough to drink. So she found a bucket and filled it, pouring some into a pitcher for consuming and some into another for dusting and mopping. She hadn’t been cleaning for very long before she heard the gentle pattering of rain. As time passed the rain fell harder, and at last was coming down in torrents. It was fortunate that she had brought in everything when she had; she would not want to be out in the storm trying to get it. The clouds overhead caused darkness to come sooner than she was expecting, forcing her to bring out the candles. The light they gave wasn’t enough for her to continue her cleaning, so she got out a book and read until she was tired and then went to sleep. The next morning she went outside for more water from the pump and found that the marsh had flooded. Surveying the damage, she discovered that the old bridge had washed out. It wasn’t a big issue; she wasn’t planning to go anywhere else anytime soon. So she went back in to keep up her work on cleaning. The next night, permeating the silence in the absence of the rain, she heard bushes scratching against the windows. It wasn’t windy, however, so she wondered if maybe it could be an animal of some sort. She shivered at the thought of an animal trying to take refuge in her lodging and decided to check in the morning when it was light. |