A kind of Homecoming - Chapter 7

7

                Abbey realized she had been holding her breath as she stared out of the window, her muscles tensed reflexively as she gasped for air.  She squinted at the curtains; they were pushed back as far as they could go along the length of the black metal curtain rod.  The tail on the left side was flipped up hanging over the arm of the chair; the other side twisted exposing the lining.  The window sat undisturbed, the glass still intact, the sash still tight against the frame.  How could someone have simply passed through glass, it could be the story line for an X-Files episode or Stephen King novel but this was real.  Even as Abbey tried rationalizing this there was no way around the evidence, at least the stuff that was still in the room.  She looked all about her as if to confirm what she had been thinking, and yet, if someone was telling her the story she would be the first one waiting for the punch line.  A trace of a smile passed over her lips just as a wave of nausea pushed in, a simple reminder that this was no joke.  She fought it off, being sick anytime felt like a sign of weakness and at the moment if felt like an excuse. 

A headache followed close behind and she closed her eyes to trying to block it.  Raising her hand up to her face she winced as her fingers brushed across a large bump forming above her right temple.  The dull ache reminded her of when she was twelve; her brother had been fooling around in the house with a tennis racket, pretending he was McEnroe performing one of his signature temper tantrums.  Abbey caught the edge of the racket right between the eyes and she tumbled backwards into the hallway.  Jorge of course had rushed to her side but she remembers that when she looked up it was not Jorge that was kneeling beside her, I was her Grandmother. Her face, she was so young and beautiful – she said everything was going to be all right.  Abbey broke into tears.

Another wave of nausea hit hard and fast, there was no fighting this one off, nothing to do but hang on and go for the ride.  She rolled to one side catching a glimpse of her right foot that had been neatly folded under her after falling into the hole in the floor.  She cried out as a sharp pain telegraphed up her leg.  Shaking and crying she wrapped her arms around her bare legs; pulling them together panting loudly and growling underneath each breath hoping that it might somehow relieve the pain when she heard a faint knock at the door.  Abbey held her breath and listened but it was quiet, panic washed over her not sure of what she may have heard.

A second knock echoed inside the room and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.  She inhaled deeply, on the verge of yelling when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone walking across the floor and down the steps to the front door.  A chill ran up her spine, the hairs lifting on her neck and arms.  Then she heard the unmistakable sound of the deadbolt as it clicked and turned inside the cylinder.

“Oh, hello, I didn’t think anyone was home, I hope I’m not troubling you?”

“No, no, not at all.  How can I help you?”

“What the hell?  Holy shit, who is in my house?”

There was a short conversation too quiet for Abbey to make out but for more than a few words.  She thought she heard the name Strauss, then a hearty “Merry Christmas” just before the sound of the door closing.

Abbey’s breathing increased and her mouth went dry. “What the fuck?” she whispered to herself.  Whoever was out there was coming up the stairs,  Hard souled shoes clicked on the tiled staircase, pausing briefly as they reached the top and started getting closer.  Her pulse rocketed and she could hear the pounding in her ears.  The door!  She had to block it somehow; block out the searing pain as she leaned over and dragged herself across the floor.  It was getting closer.  Click, click, click, Abbey tried to picture the length of the hall, she’d walked it a million times. How come she couldn’t think of how many steps it took.  Six, seven, maybe 8 tops and whoever it was would be at the door.  Abbey pulled herself up on her hands and lunged at a chair close to the door managing to slide the back just under the handle as it began to push down.  She began to breathe again and there was a rapid jiggling on the handle and the door began to shake.

“Who are you, what do you want!”  Abbey screamed.  The rattling stopped.

“Very clever Abbey, I hope you didn’t think that was someone coming to stop us.”

“Stop you from what? And what do you mean us?

“Us?  Why you and me Abbey!”

Abbey sat leaning against the door, her mind whirling. “There is no you and me, I don’t know who you are.”

“Ah but you do, and I know you very well my darling we’ll have plenty of time to chat once things get back to normal.”

“What the hell are you talking about, back to normal, normal left sometime after supper last night? This... I don’t know what this is and I don’t like you being in my house!”

“It’s our house now darling; you might want to keep that in mind.  Oh, and you better wash up now, dinner will be ready soon and the guests will be arriving.

Abbey closed her eyes and started shouting, “No, NO, NO! Get out go back to where you came from!”

There was a few seconds of silence before the sound of footsteps clicked and echoed down the hall towards the living room, within seconds a fire orange glow of light flickering under the bottom of the door and Abbey realized that there was a now a fire in the other room.  The images from the other night flashed behind her eyes; what she thought was only a dream was something much bigger. 

The familiar buzzing of her cell phone announced an incoming call.   She was terrified to move from the door but knew she had no choice.  Abbey rolled on to her left side and began clawing her way over to the phone reaching it just in time.  “Hello?”

Silence, for what seemed like forever then – Hello, Abbey is that you?  What’s the matter?”

“Francis, I’m so glad you called, I don’t have time to explain, please…click. “Francis,  hello, are you there? Francis!” Abbey knew that the call was lost and was just about to call back when it began to buzz in her hand. The reception was horrible and there was a lot of static. The voice of an overly cheerful operator came on the line, “We’re sorry, your call cannot be completed as dialed, please hang up and try your call again, we’re sorry, your call-.” The light flickered and went out. The phone was dead, she began to cry.

After about 5 min the sobbing had subsided, she wiped her eyes and looked down at the floor letters strewn about her when she noticed a familiar name, Albert Brude.  She picked up the envelope and flipped it over and saw it was addressed to her.  She had just finished closing his estate, how was it possible to have a letter concealed in the floor of her bedroom.  She put it to the side and picked up another one that had Ted Jacobs name printed in sharp precise lettering, he was the train engineer in the accident with Albert.  She began organizing and stacking the envelopes, most of them were from people she had helped over the past year, all of them with a family member that had died or were dead themselves like Albert.  Others she didn’t recognize at all and stacked them in a small pile to the right.  She found a large manila envelope covered in doodles of moons and stars that had her name handwritten across the front and below it were three small words. Don’t be afraid. She sliced it open and searched the edge with her fingers for a piece of paper but it was empty.  She pulled the ends apart and looked into the sleeve and saw a small business card and reached in and read the name on the card, Mystic Angels -psychic readings by Anna Krauss.  Abbey stared at the card and read it over several times before she realized why it sounded so familiar.  It wasn’t Strauss she heard the voice at the door say, it was Krauss.  It was too much of a coincidence for it not to be.  Abbey pulled herself over to her desk and pulled down a pad of paper and a pen and began to write.  When she was finished she sealed the letter in an envelope and addressed it to Anna before dropping it into the hole in the floor and covering it up.  She waited 5 minutes before removing the section of flooring again and smiled, there was nothing there, just as she thought.

A Kind of Homecoming Chapter 5

5

                A single yellow leaf dropped onto Melanie’s lap as she sat sipping coffee and scanning through the virtual pages of her Face book account.  The concept of changing seasons to a Canadian is a simple truth that is as accepted as night and day to everyone else but the hard evidence of that truth, in the form of a falling leaf still evokes a certain melancholy.  Kind of like a torch being passed over; the warm forgiving nights of summer for the golden hues of yellows and oranges and cooler days that is autumn.  From there it is only a matter of time until the long dark nights of winter accumulate as much as they do in a season as in our own selves as the years pass. 

She looked up and watched the leaves shimmer in the warm September air and wondered just how she got to this place.  It was a change of season for her in a sense as she looked back down at the picture on the screen.  It was a picture of her husband Gary dressed in a slick black tuxedo, his hand clasped tight around the hand of his new bride running away from the camera, he was laughing and wearing a smile of long forgotten youth.  She clicked on the arrow taking her to another picture, this one of a beautiful girl in white dress, a shower of rice raining down on her.  It was a beautiful wedding, but with one major flaw, it wasn’t her in the white dress.  During a random search of friends she had simply stumbled through the photo albums of a dozen strangers and while looking at those pictures, friends of friends, she innocently came across a set of wedding pictures taken the previous weekend.  Melanie had stumbled across pictures of her husband getting married to someone else while he was supposed to be on a business trip.  She was lost in thought when the sound of a car pulling up the driveway snapped her back to the here and now.  Melanie closed the lid of the laptop and rushed into the house meeting Gary as he slipped through the patio doors into the kitchen.

“Mother-fucker! When exactly were you going to tell me?  Actually what were you going to say, no wait Fuck it I don’t’ wanna know.

“Mel, it was –“

“Shut up Gary you stupid asshole, just get the fuck out!” A small cup crashed against the wall just past Gary’s head and rained fragments of glass down the back of his shirt.  A second one landed remarkably close prompting Gary to charge forward with full intention of stopping Melanie before she did something he would regret.  He only managed one step before a hand-made ceramic mug landed squarely across the bridge of his nose and a Fourth of July explosion that dropped him to his knees followed.  There was so much blood pouring through his fingers he wasn’t sure if it was just from his nose or from the flap of skin that he could feel at the edge of his left hand fingers.  Stunned from the pain searing across his face and how quickly things had unfolded his initial anger faded.  He realized pretty quickly that Melanie must know everything and there really wasn’t much to say.  He got up, grabbed a handful of paper towels and walked to the kitchen sink flipping on the tap and letting the water get cold.  After he cleaned up he casually picked up a few personal items from the bedroom, a couple CD’s and walked out.  Melanie watched from the living room window as he placed the small bag next to his suitcase that was still packed in the car.  He glanced up as he made his way down the side of the car and opened the door, stepped in and in seconds was driving away.

Melanie was still standing in the same spot, trance like, a look of shock and hurt embedded in her features when there was a knock at the door.  She was going to ignore it when there was a tiny click as the latch slide past the strike plate and the door opened.

“Hello?” came a shy voice.  “I’m so sorry to bother you, my name is Anna and I just moved in next door, well renting a room actually while I’m in school.  This is going to sound horrible and I hate admitting this but I noticed your husband leaving, and well, I kind of heard a little of the yelling.  I’m sorry I didn’t mean too, it’s just that with the windows open and all.” 

“I’m not sure if this is the best time-“

“No, I know I really just wanted to give you this.”  She said pulling out a card and handing it to Melanie.  “Where I come from there aren’t many reasons –“  she stopped, “what I mean to say is that if you need someone to talk to I’m a good listener.” 

Melanie looked down at the card, Mystic Angels – psychic readings by Anna.  “Listen, Anna, I appreciate the compassionate speech, reaching out and all that but I don’t think this is really me.”

“That’s what most people say, until they try it.”

“Well, let me think about it.  In the mean time you wouldn’t happen to have a card of a good lawyer on you?

“Actually, yes I do.  She is amazing, her name is Abbey Parker.  I think she is going through something similar to you only she doesn’t know it yet.

A kind of Homecoming - Chapter 4

4

                As the music faded, the voice of the radio announcer came on and started with the top news story.  Abbey reached over and pressed down on the snooze button.  “A little disaster here, a murder there topped off with a feel good story to help you forget how shitty things are, or should I say fucked up?”  Sunlight was pouring into the room over the bed, the warmth of it felt nice against her bare skin; she threw the covers off to the side and just relaxed. The events of the evening put down to a horrible nightmare, “too much work Abbey, that’s all.” She turned her head to the side and spoke to the empty room, “not enough love either,” she said.

 Her cell phone began vibrating on the side table making her jump out of bed.  Standing there, she could only stare at it, as if it was something new, something to fear.   “That’s ridiculous! Glass and plastic that’s all it is she muttered before leaning over to pick it up, “Hello?”

“Abbey my love, how are you I’m so sorry to hear about you and Francis, but things will get better, you’ll see - just look behind you and you’ll see.”

“Yeah, I mean no, no everything is fine, just a little weird.  Wait, what?  Look behind me, but that’s what the voice said in my dream.”

Abbey felt like she’d stepped into a tunnel and let the phone drop away as she began to fall.  She reached out but found only air and came down hard hitting her head on the edge of the footboard and ended up face down on the floor. 

It could have been seconds, minutes or hours but the room was black when she opened her eyes and uncomfortably hot.  Her body was glistening in sweat and rivulets of water trickled down from the curve of her back as she tried to sit up. The sensation of pins and needles tickled her left arm suggesting at least that it had been more than just a few minutes.  She began to rub her fingers to relieve the sensation looking around as she did.  The question of the oppressive darkness was easily answered by the long heavy drapes that were drawn tight and that the door to the ensuite bath and hall were closed.  The air was dense and humid, triggering a coughing fit that at least kept away a case of claustrophobia. 

Abbey reminded herself that she’d been in the catacombs of Paris and through the Carlsbad caverns in New Mexico.  The memories of that time made her smile and she started feeling a little foolish.  “Francis must have come back and… and what, left me here naked on the floor and closed the drapes?  What the hell is going on?”

The phone started vibrating on the floor and she was back in the tunnel; her mind swirling as all the memories from the night before came crashing in on her like waves.  She tried fighting it off, tried to rationalize it away, “Please, please, please, no!”  Then the buzzing stopped. 

Tears began welling up and there was an overwhelming urge to scream when the phone began buzzing again, the backlight casting an indigo blue light across the floor.  It had fallen beneath the bed, just out of reach from where Abbey sat cross legged on the floor.  She felt around for something to put on in spite of the sauna-esk temperature when she remembered that she had thrown a pile of Francis’ clothes on the floor.  Her hands were shaking as she pulled a shirt on and started fastening the buttons.  The phone clicked on again only this time it began to ring. It was a special ring tone that Abbey had set up for when Francis’ called, a Cold Play song.  The indigo blue light was like a beacon sending a message of hope.  She dropped to her knees and crawled around to the side of the bed, “Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry You don't know how lovely you are-“

As the music played Abbey tried to reach under the bed frame but the phone was farther up than she thought.  “-I had to find you, tell you I need you, “time was running out and she began to feel panicked.  She dropped to her stomach and reached in hitting her hand against a storage box. “Fuck!” the phone was on the other side of one of those long flat rubber maid containers for storing extra clothes or bedding.  She grabbed a corner and pushed it to the side, watching it slide down the length of the bed as the music continued to play. As she turned back to the phone she could see something on the other side of the indigo blue light. It was on the opposite side of the bed but she couldn’t quite make out what it was. “-Tell you I set you apart -“Abbey grabbed the phone and lifted it up on an angle using it like a flashlight.  The soft blue light illuminated the far side of the bed and along the base of the wall. Abbey’s breathing quickened as her heart raced and she fought the feeling of fainting as she lay still, staring at a pair of bare feet, then the call stopped and the song ended and the room was dark once again.

Abbey was almost hyperventilating; her scream came out with each word like its own sentence “What-do- you- want?”

The reply came in the form of another phone call, the same ring tone as before, as the song played Abbey lifted the phone up in front of her but kept facing the floor. The blue light cutting into the darkness and with it the very thing she was too afraid to look for.  Her head felt like it had a weight attached to it and it took all her strength to tilt it backwards.  The bed frame first, then a corner of the down comforter that draped over the mattress came into view; finally there was nothing left between them.  Her eyes saw all the familiar- safe things but in her mind she also saw the feet on the other side of the bed, those horrible ghostly feet.  Her nose was dripping and tears were streaming over her cheeks, she didn’t want to look, the third line was playing now, only one more before the phone would shut off Abbey thought to herself.  She wasn’t prepared for what happened next, what she saw, it couldn’t be.  Abbey was looking at herself standing across the bed dressed in a 19^th century bed robe, torn and dirty, her hair was shorn to bearded stubble.  Shaking she dropped the phone as she rose to standing preparing to run. 

“LOOK BEHIND YOU!”

It felt like someone was shouting right next to her, Abbey cupped her hands over her ears and pulled back tripping on the rug coming down hard on her left elbow.  A loud crack told Abbey that it was broken long before the pain coursed through her body.  The snapping sound was different.  It was more like tearing sound.  Not that Abbey was a Doctor, or had first-hand experience with a lot of trauma but it was no sound she had ever experienced.  There was too much happening, the pain blinding and pushing away everything else.  Just before she blacked out Abbey saw the hole in the floor.  She had stumbled on the rug and somehow uncovered a secret compartment in the floor exposing a stack of letters and pictures.  The drapes burst open and the room was suddenly filled with the brightness of mid day making her squint, the last thing she saw before she passed out was of the apparition disappearing through the window. 

A Kind of Home Coming - Chapter 2

2

                The sun was shining in Albert’s bloodshot eyes as he sat in a small booth at the window of the Highway 5 truck stop diner.  He was finishing his 4^th coffee of the morning, milk with no sugar when Sandy Jensen brought the pot over to Albert and refilled his cup.

“Are you sure I can’t get you something honey? Jack makes a great breakfast; eggs, bacon, hash-browns and toast.”

“No, I’m good.” croaked Albert as he continued to stare out the window.  He was squinting, trying to avoid eye contact.  His eyes were black from lack of sleep and his cheeks left tell-tale signs from his tears.  Sandy reasoned it could be from the late night; after all she had started her shift with Albert sitting in the same spot over 7 hours ago. After 12 years of working at the diner she was pretty sure there was something else though, something much bigger.

“All right then dear, you just call if you change your mind.” putting on her best easy-as-you-go smile almost gliding over to the table of regular truckers behind him.  The men were all joking together, a bouquet of cigarettes and gasoline followed them and clouded over Albert’s head.  The solid thump of age old ceramic mugs hit the laminate table and filled the diner as each man took turns up righting them from their place.

Albert pulled his hands up to his face and began to sob as I’ll be home for Christmas came on the radio.  Half way through he lifted his head and wiped his face with a napkin from the dispenser.  He started pulling items out of each pocket and laid them out in front of him, lining each item up as if he were taking inventory.  Two pens, one wallet, one cell phone, keys, some loose change, and a ticket stub from the movies he and Loretta had gone to the night before with the kids.  He picked up his wallet and started pulling the various cards out along with a small amount of cash, laying each item out like a game of solitaire across the table.  Albert eyed over the objects, rearranged a few of them, smiled and sipped his coffee as he stood to leave.  He was out of the door before anyone noticed.

The black and tan Hummer roared to life and was already making a left hand turn onto the highway when Sandy came back to the table and spotted the curious display.  She started to run towards the door but was caught between the realization it was too late and the curiosity of the exhibit left behind.  It would be the center of great conversation for weeks to come at the Diner.

Two items that Albert didn’t leave behind were the school pictures of his kids and a case of beer he had purchased the night before.  He sat them neatly arranged on the passenger seat in the same mechanical fashion as he left everything else on the table, equally spaced, and straight rows.  The roads were clear and it was actually warm for December but the roomy interior retained a cave like cold and Albert instinctively turned on the heater.  He reached up and cranked up the radio to hear ACDC Highway to Hell and punched down on the accelerator. The SUV responded easily, 100, 120, then, 140 kilometers per hour.  “Drives like a dream!” he shouted over the music.  He reached over and grabbed a beer taking both hands off the wheel to twist the cap.  Albert guzzled the drink and pressed down a little more with his right foot, throwing the empty bottle behind him.  “Think I’ll have me another,” he said in his best Jimmy Durante voice popping the cap off a fresh bottle and pressing it to his lips.  He sipped a bit slower this time but was still finished before Angus Young gargled his signature “yeaahh” at the end of the song.  As the Hummer cruised along a loud rumble reverberated against the dashboard.  The quick consumption of alcohol had awoken his senses reminding him of his lack of sleep and food starved body. 

Just past the Avery gas plant a CN Rail train with over 120 cars was also speeding along as it crossed over one of the many intersections en route.  Engineer Ted Jacobs was behind schedule on his way north due to a grass fire just out of the city.  He was trying to make up time and decided to use the air horn in lieu of slowing down through some of the smaller communities.  The tracks meandered along the country side crossing over from west to east over the rural roads.  At some spots you were so close you felt like you could touch the train from the window or your car.  In other places it was hidden behind groves of trees or some far section of farm field.  The tracks crossed over the same road Albert was now racing down, just as it came into the small township where he grew up. 

Grabbing another beer he took his hands away to hold the bottle and twist the cap making the hummer swerve radically.  The bottle fell to the floor and began spraying foam over his feet as he grabbed the wheel and brought the Hummer back under control.  Still travelling at about 145 kilometers per hour Albert quickly dropped his head and searched the floor with his free hand while Matthew Good was shouting at the world on the radio.

As the mammoth train stretched out into a clearing after several acres of trees, Ted Jacobs noticed a light cloud of dust lifting into the air directly behind a very fast moving vehicle.  It wasn’t uncommon for people to race the train over a crossing but Ted didn’t think this guy was racing him.  Gut instinct told him this wasn’t going to be pretty and he began an emergency braking procedure to slow his train down but there wasn’t enough time.  Albert finally looked up with only 3 seconds between him and the wall of metal in front of him.

A Kind of Home Coming - Chapter 1

With weary eye an apparition form takes place.

Slinks and folds in my disembodied soul, in shadows deep

Reveals itself in the blind and wickedness of our own closed hearts

We are the ones, our own to fear to loath in concentric self.

                                                          

Abbey Parker shuffled up the steps to face the wreath covering the mahogany door, closed her eyes and sighed.  Snow spiraled upwards in a sudden gust and settled down into the folds of her wool scarf making her shiver.  She coughed harshly fumbling through her purse for the keys cursing as she did.  Three days before Christmas and she still had no tree, no lights and no spirit; save a sprig of holly on the outdoor light and the wreath on the door.  It had been a long and busy month at the law office and the house stood empty in darkness with an uninviting air. Christmas was supposed to be a happy time of year but in this week alone she had prepared 3 divorce proceedings and had to begin the estate settlement for one Albert Brude. 

Albert passed away shortly after his office Christmas party by running the Hummer he was driving into the side of a freight train.  He is survived by his wife Loretta and 2 daughters, Katie and Jennifer.  Katie and Jennifer will be spared the knowledge that his death was related to the upcoming arrival of their little brother who will meet the world in the delivery room of the Grace Hospital.  Nothing would ever be mentioned that the father is actually Albert’s brother Jacob. “God bless us everyone,” choked Abbey as she turned the key and entered the dark hallway.

The house was an ice box and inside a skiff of frost covered the tiles in the foyer forcing her to concentrate on her footing as she thumbed the wall for the light switch.  “Why is it so god damn cold in here?”  There was of course no answer, nor did she expect one.  Francis (her boyfriend) had left on a business trip to Italy earlier in the week and wasn’t expected to return until the first week in January.  The trip came unexpectedly on the heels of an early morning phone call in which Francis felt compelled to have in the downstairs bathroom.  A text message from the Airport was the only notice she received as she sat with a client the previous afternoon. 

A barely audible click interrupted the silence and with it the soft glow of the concealed lighting that dotted the ceiling came to life.  The lights normally provided a kind of pseudo warmth to the house but not tonight.  In the yellow light Abby could make out the condensed vapor of each exhale and a carpet of frost that covered the laminate floor.  She carefully placed the laptop on the edge of the stairs and made her way up to check the thermostat.  The soft green backlight came to life with a single touch reporting the temperature of the room to be minus 15 degrees Celsius.  She looked at the timer and groaned as she realized what had happened.  In her hurry to leave she had actually set the vacation mode that morning instead of having it turn on at 4pm to counter the plummeting evening temperatures.  She tapped the pad in several places and after a ten second pause heard the furnace element ignite, another slight pause, a click then the comforting sound of warm air being pushed throughout the house.  Abbey leaned against the wall and swallowed hard sparking a coughing fit.  The overload of work, the holidays, Francis; it was too much, she was tired in her heart and didn’t want to try anymore, didn’t want to be strong or patient or understanding of everyone else’s problems.   The floor would have to be mopped after the frost melted but she just didn’t care and headed for the wine cooler.  After pouring a large glass of Chardonnay she lifted it towards the ceiling in a toast to the quiet house.

Taking the scenic route through the kitchen Abbey pulled out a box of Chinese leftovers from the fridge and closed the box inside the microwave.  She sipped from the glass while she waited and took a package of contact C from the side cupboard.  The foil back ripped open like sheet of tissue paper and the pill bounced onto the floor and under the stove. “Fuck me! Screw it!”  Tears welled in her deep brown eyes and threatened to break over like a dam but she pushed back the urge and moved toward the couch.  There was still a couple hours work to do before she could rest for the night and feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to help.

She picked up the laptop from off the stairs and set it on the coffee table next to her dinner deciding to refill in her glass before settling down on the sofa.  Abbey looked out the window at the falling snow while the computer booted up.  Minutes later the harsh light filled the room and strained her eyes making her squint.  Abbey grabbed the remote and turned on the television to fill the void with something.  The silence in the empty house was oppressive and she just needed something, ending up on the odd station that plays carols while a looped tape of log burns in a fireplace. 

Two hours later she placed the laptop back on the table, saved the file she had been working on and closed the program leaving the screen saver visible.  It was a picture from the original movie with Alister Sim in “A Christmas Carol”.  Laying back against the soft cushions she stared at the picture for a while and contemplated the overwhelming feelings of similarity between her situations to that of Scrooge.  Not that she was ill tempered towards everyone but the empty house certainly spoke volumes of her lack of interest in the season and it seemed she would be working as many hours as Bob Marley.  Abbey laughed in spite of herself and mumbled to the din, “Alone in a cold dark house, that’s us Scrooge.” She imagined the Christmases of her youth, filled with Aunts, Uncles and assorted friends and strangers and a brightly lit tree with presents spilling out into the room.  She could almost smell the hot apple cider simmering on the stove, a Turkey in the oven with all the trimmings set out on the table and Bing Crosby singing in the background.  She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, the room quite now except for the crackle of the burning logs now on its 27^th loop.

Outside the storm intensified, the wind shooting the new fallen snow like knives, harpooning the trees and buildings and the terrified souls that were forced out into the blackness and cold.  Snow hit the window in waves like sand before the tide, catching, sticking looking in at the warmth, almost mocking it.  The screen saver of the Morley family having Christmas dinner remained, unblinking in the shadowed room, Scrooge and the ghost of Christmas present looking on as they stand in the background.  Everyone laughing and joking together, raising their glass in an eternal toast to Mr. Scrooge and as Abbey drifted off into a dreamless sleep and as her breathing slowed the snow still tapping on the glass something in the picture had changed.   The smiles had eased on the kids’ faces and a look of concern had now spread over Bob as he sat at the end of the table. Martha was now turned in her seat looking out towards the computer screen peering into the room where Abbey now lay.

On Being Me.

On being me.

Have you ever wondered how you got to the place you are? Pretty soon you’re retracing the steps of your life, back through memories like pages in a book, or a film I guess.

It could be as simple as being introduced to a new person that eventually becomes a lifelong friend or mate (or both). It could be more intricate, events that are woven deep into the fabric of life like exposing your kids to art, music and stories. It is only through the passing of all the everyday’s when suddenly you realize that they are now exposing music and art and their own stories to you.

I have friends that can do things I can never do but their passion only inspires me to be better. Friends that have come and gone, friends that I can only see on vacations, friends that are friends no matter how much time passes without anything and friendships that destructed from saying the wrong things. I would like to say sorry for my part in those, I’m not always gentle and occasionally have a hot tongue.

How did I get here, to the place or rather the person I am now? Seems like a simple question compared with asking why am I here and yet the answer is as elusive. I guess I’ll just keep doing what I do and see how the story ends.