On the Run
The church was empty, vast and chilly. Echoes of the pew cracking underneath me, hit the walls. I looked up at a painting of the Black Madonna. The lit candles gave the space a holy glow. In her arms was a child, sweet and innocent. The Black Madonna is a protector, the one that will not bow down. She is a mighty force, full of power and strength. Yet, she is gentle and nurturing. She is a mother; a mother to all. I wept. I wanted to be the child in her arms. I wanted to be rescued. I wanted to be held.
I sat there for a long time. The silence and God’s presence gave me peace, though my heart was in pieces. I felt broken and lonely. I was tired from running and hiding. At least there, just for a moment, I felt safe. I knew I had to leave soon. They will look for me and they will find me. I was praying when the church doors abruptly opened and the silence was shattered with the dark one shouting, “There she is. Get her! Get HER!”
I grabbed my bag, the only possession I had with me. It was what they want. It wasn’t me they were after, but the content in that bag. I ran to the exit door in front of the church. They were behind me and they were close. I couldn’t let them have it. It was mine, and I needed to protect it.
I run as fast as I could. A young man on a motorcycle was stopped on a red light. I pushed him off with all I had.
“Sorry. I’m really sorry!”
I jumped on the bike and sped through the streets. Left, right, left again. I think I lost them. I glanced at the meter, the tank was half full. I had time to ride and think. Where should I go next? Is there a safe place? They will never give up. They will never stop, as long as I have it, they will want it. Two years on the run. I was tired, but I knew that it didn’t belong to them.
The dark man was always behind me, since the secret was out, his mission was to destroy what was gifted to me. I didn’t know his real name, but his followers called him, “Alpha.” He was tall and black, not his skin color, but his appearance was of darkness and gloom. He always hid in shadows, so I never saw his face. He was mysterious and unpredictable. I wasn’t scared of him; I was scared of the outcome if I let him win.
I drove what seemed like hours and I knew for now, it’s okay to stop and rest. I saw an entrance to a park and I turned without hesitations. A public beach was a perfect place to blend in. I parked the bike under a big pine tree.
“Now what?” I thought to myself. “What am I going to do with the secret?” It was given to me by accident. I didn’t ask for it, I didn’t look for it. It was assigned to me for a reason, I knew that for sure, but what was the reason? Love. How long can one protect it from the outside world? How long until it becomes nothing? If Alpha gets it, then he’ll use it against me. He’ll turn it into hate and ugliness. He’ll want to destroy it for such love doesn’t have room to exist. But this love was born to stay alive; I was convinced of that because the other creator welcomed it too. We didn’t do it to hurt anyone; we didn’t even realize it had such power.
Even though, he’s gone, the other creator was gone; I made a promise that the secret will stay with me. I will fight for its survival. It was a long time ago since Alpha’s followers captured him and I never saw or heard of the other creator again. It was certain to me that he was on the other side because otherwise he would look for me. He would try to comfort me, he would try to help and defeat the dark one.
“Boom!” A loud noise startled me, and I jumped back, ready to run. I turned my head and realized a little girl was standing in front of me with a popped balloon. She began to cry. Her mom came over and took her by the hand. As they walked away, the woman said, “It’s okay, I’ll get you another one.”
A strange feeling pushed me to follow them. I didn’t want to make it obvious, so I kept my distance. From afar, I watched the mother and daughter interacting. The way she wiped her daughter’s face after ice cream dripped on her chin. The way she smiled when the girl whispered something in her ear. And the child was so pure and innocent, the way she picked a wild flower and gave it to her mother. Their relationship was like no other. Love. Same name emotion, but different relationship, different type of love. No one can take it, no one can change it, no one owns it… it is free. It’s unconditional. And it doesn’t need to hide.
I looked at my bag. This love has been in there, locked in a cage for too long. I thought it needed protecting. I smiled. If this love is honest, then it doesn’t need a lock, it doesn’t need a guard; it needs to be set free.
I was ready. I reached for the zipper, when a ball of dust and loud car break noises filled the air.
“There!! Over there!!” Alpha’s voice roared.
I threw the bag on my shoulders and darted toward the beach. My feet were sinking in the warm sand, and I kicked off my sandals. I reached the water and ran on the edge of the waves. I glanced behind me, and surely he was there. Alpha was ahead and the rest stayed back. I climbed a huge boulder close to the ocean. There were many more that lead farther into the water. The rocks were slippery and uneven; I tripped and scrapped my knee. Blood dripped down my leg, but I didn’t care. The pain made no difference, and I finally reached the end. As the sun made down the horizon; the sky turned into deep shades of vivid colors. The breeze was cool and strong, and the passionate waves violently hit the rocks. I turned around to face my enemy. He was there, standing a few feet away.
“Give it to me.” He demanded, extending his hand.
“No!” I stated firmly, looking straight into his eyes. Now, that he was so near, there was something familiar about him. I look closer at his face, deeper into his eyes. I began to shake; my heart began to pound. I couldn’t believe it.
The other creator was standing in front of me. Alpha was the other originator of the secret, and now he wanted it back. He wanted to obliterate it as if it never existed. Questions filled my head, but I had no time to analyze the million possible answers.
“You can’t destroy it. You can’t kill love.” I opened the bag and let the content go. And just like that, the bright energy escaped its prison and spread across the purple sky. Alpha leaped forward attempting to grab what he could, but it was too late. As he stood there, overwhelmed with anger; I turned towards the water, smiled and jumped.
2014
The Letter
I didn’t remember a flight; I didn’t remember going for a drive, but suddenly I opened my eyes and stepped forward into a place that I did not know, yet had never forgotten. It was the afternoon of the perfect autumn day in the year 1990 for the newspaper on the sidewalk indicated the date. I stood in front of an apartment building that appeared like the one I grow up in. I looked up at the second floor window; the flowery curtains were the same which hang in my childhood bedroom window. I turned to my left and right, confused I stood in the place where I grow up; I stood in front of my childhood.
I sauntered closer to the jade door that allowed entrance to the hallway of the building. I put my head in first; a smell of moisture and dust hit my nostrils. One foot in, I noticed the hall was smaller and chillier. The color of the walls faded and bits of cracked paint chipped away from the uneven surface. A mailbox hung on the right wall just as I walked in. “Fourteen, fourteen… “ I ran my finger down the mailboxes searching for the number of my childhood home. I peeked inside through a slot. A letter that was addressed to me laid waiting. I tugged at the box, and the small rusted flap fell open. With my hand I reached for the envelope. On the front of the letter my name written in bold fancy letters, ”To Miss Sara A. Davion…” I flipped to the back where it spelled “From Your Other Half.” I was not sure if the letter was really meant for me, I didn’t live here anymore. But it was addressed to me, so I ripped the side of the envelope. “No, I can’t do it.” Something held me back, like a voice telling me to stop. Not yet, I’ll read it later.
So I placed the message in my sweatshirt pocket and started to walk up the staircase. The cement steps led me to the second floor where I stopped opposite the door with the number fourteen painted on. “Should I knock or ring the bell?” I thought to myself, a bit hesitant. I knocked and waited, but no one came out. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, I didn’t even understand why was I there. I turned around ready to walk away, “Hey, where are you going?” I quickly looked back. A little girl was standing in the doorframe; she looked just like a younger me, yet much different. She had an angelic glow. Her fair skin shimmered with a perfect pink blush. A long braid rested on her shoulder. Her face was serious, yet content. Her small but vivid blue eyes stared at me, and with her finger she called me over. Inside, the apartment was just like I remembered; the mirror, the blue rug, the wooden shelf where our shoes slept. The girl took my hand and led me to her bedroom or rather my bedroom. All my toys were in their place; my first Barbie next to my handsome plush teddy bear, the doggie named Kiki I took for walks with his string still attached, and the precious Evelina doll, so beautiful that I wanted to be like her when I grew up.
The angelic child guided my step toward the bed. We sat down, and even though I felt I belong there, my heart was racing.
“Don’t be nervous Sara,” the girl said squeezing my hand.
“How do you know my name?”
The youth giggled at my words. “Because that’s my name.” More questions filled my mind, yet I was not in a hurry for them to be answered. I somehow knew that it will come together and the feeling of comfort and satisfaction relaxed me.
“But……”
“Shhhhhhh…” the girl pressed her porcelain finger against my lips. “We’re here because we need to know, we need to read the letter.” I slid my hand into the pocket, and pulled out the letter she requested.
“Here. Is this what you’re looking for?” I asked placing the letter in her lap.
“Yes. And I’m glad you’re here.”
“Why am I…”
“Shhhhhhh…” She touched my lips again. “Three of us need to be here, you and I and…” She just smiled and gently worked to open the ripped side of the envelope, she took out the note and read it at loud.
My Dear Daughter,
I am with you, always. You must be strong. You must live your life with open heart and open spirit. I am always with you, just close your eyes and feel my love. There was nothing anyone could have done to save me. It was my time to go, there is no one to blame. You must forgive… and remember someday we’ll meet again. Someday I will kiss you goodnight again.
Love,
Me
The young child folded the letter and hid it back in the envelope. She turned her head towards me, bending her neck to get my attention. I was staring at the thick carpet underneath my feet. I felt a cold drop on my lap; it was my tear. Now I knew, now I can forgive myself. The girl kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear. Her words were as if the wind blow softly forming something I could understand.
“Mom loves you. Live your life Sara…Live your life for me, for her…”
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry out all the pain I had held inside. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, she hugged me, and I felt a sudden change. I opened my eyes. In my arms was mom. She smiled. She kept holding me tight, and I finally relaxed by lying down.
“Goodnight, Sara.”
“Goodnight, mom…” I grew tired, the world darkened. My mind began to cloud and the clarity of my mom’s face faded away. But it was ok, because somehow I knew she would still be there when I wake up.
(2003)
The Field’s Horizon
I sat in the back looking through the right window of the taxicab. We drove through the flat green pastures, and golden harvest outlined with fences of stretched rusted wire. The field road was embedded with cavities, pebbles and curves. Big, old trees rooted on the side of the road shaped a tunnel, and the rays of the sun pierced through the leafy branches. I kept my hand over my eyes to protect myself from the flashes. In the distance, a white house and two gray barns formed an L, like a courtyard among its endless kingdom of the greens and yellows. On the barn’s roof a great nest rested with a baby stork reaching for the mother’s beak. The young bird was waiting for the adult to give him food, to nurture him. There were more adult storks in the midst of the pastures searching for their hunt. And near by a herd of cows, in white and black spot coats devoured the thick grass. Other herds appeared, some closer some further away from me. And the land of the wealthy greens met with the perfect, almost artificial blue sky, complementing the horizon of my sweet motherland.
I tried to organize my thoughts of the past, and my questions of what was to come. What will I say? What will I do? I wasn’t sure if I was ready to see her. Ten years had passed since I left; it was ten summers without my mother. I promised to come back sooner but I didn’t. And now, there was no turning back, I had to see her or I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. These could be her last days and I couldn’t wait any longer for a miracle, for the doctors to finally say she was cured. The truth was, she wasn’t getting better.
The ride from the airport seemed short. I was nervous; I didn’t know what to say or how to behave. I was sorry about not being able to help, not being able to be by her side. Even though, I called every day, I knew it wasn’t enough. I closed my eyes and saw the moment when our goodbye seemed like a dream. We stood near the “Check-In Baggage” sign at the airport when she kissed my forehead and whispered, “Come visit soon, Ok? I’ll be waiting.”
“I will, I promise.”
But inside, I knew it wouldn’t be easy to drop everything and go. Life was too exciting and I was too busy being social and having fun. I didn’t want to think about her illness. I wanted to be free; but all I kept feeling was guilt for having such a selfish mind.
“Miss? Miss are you alright?” the cab driver asked handing me a tissue. “I hope those are happy tears.” He added.
“Yes…happy to be finally home.”
Houses stood closer together and a sign marked the entrance to my mother’s childhood country-town.
“Well, here we are. Do you remember which house it is?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so. I did spend many childhood summers here. It is my grandma’s farm.”
“Well, then I hope you have a great vacation. And don’t forget to smile! You’re going to see your family.”
“Thank you. That’s it, the white brick house.” I pointed out the window.
I stood in front of the green iron gate with my suitcase resting on my leg. I heard only a cricket somewhere in the tall weeds. Everything looked the same; the garden of flowers in the front of the house, the apple orchard on the left and in the back, acres of golden rye-fields that continued until they met with the horizon. I smiled. I remember those fields during late August when the harvest season began and everyone in the family was helping with the rye. The men would divide the grain into burlap sacks and collect the remaining straw in a bundle. And I with the rest of the children, would roll in the straw, not realizing that the gentle scratches would burn the minute we sank in a soapy bath. But the best part of the long summer days were the dinners. My mother, grandma, and aunt would prepare hardy meals to feed their men. And finally when everyone gathered around the outside picnic table it was just the perfect afternoon of conversation and laughter. That’s how I remembered this place, that’s how I wanted to remember it.
I picked up my bag and opened the gate. I glanced at the front window. The curtain moved, but I didn’t see if it was grandma or mom. I walked up few steps and there I saw grandma almost running with her arms extended. She had aged. Her back formed an arch, and her face was a desert of a thousand sandy waves. Yet, her energy was still like in a thirty year old.
“Oh, Julia, my girl! Ah! You are quiet a young lady.”
“Grandma! Oh, grandma… you’re…. squeezing me too… hard. I’ve missed you too.”
“Well, come on in, come in. I bet you’re hungry.” We walked into the kitchen. It looked like it did ten years ago. Same pots on the stove, same blue cups and dishes, same flowery tablecloth and that same kitchen towel hanged next to the sink.
“Grandma?”
“Here, have a sit. Give me your bag.”
“Grandma? Grandma? Please stop. How is she? How is mom?
“Yes… of course.” She sat across from me and rested her elbows on the table. “I don’t know Julia. I just don’t know anymore. She seems better one day, worst the other. The doctors concluded that the treatment did work for a while, but her body is too weak, it can’t fight anymore.”
“So, what do we do? I mean, I’ve saved enough money, so maybe I can get better doctors. You know I couldn’t come earlier. You know that Grandma, right?”
“Yes, I do know that. And it’s ok, don’t blame yourself.”
I tried to keep a strong face, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I can’t do this. I can’t lose her. I need her.”
I looked at grandma, she stood up, and while a tear made a way down her cheek, she said, “You need her? Yes, you do, but today, right now she needs you. Go see her, Julia, she’s been waiting for you.”
I stood in front of the heavy, white door with my hand in the air, hesitant to knock. I pressed my ear to the door in hope of hearing something, not quiet sure what. I took a deep breath. I could not believe I was finally here. I was finally going to see mom. I smiled and bowed my neck so my forehead rested on the door.
“Julia? Julia is that you?” The voice startled me, she knew I was there. I shook off my nervousness and slowly opened the door. The same squeaky noise echoed through the house and my senses quickly adapted to the familiar smell of chamomile tea. She sat on the bed, legs covered with a pale pink blanket. I had sent her the blanket for Christmas two years earlier. A small prayer book lay on her knees and a rosary intertwined between her fingers. She looked tired and bit thinner, yet her beauty was still present in the natural sheer blush of her defined cheek bone, small dark eyes and full lips.
“You’re finally here. Come, don’t be scared.” But I couldn’t move. I stood there in the doorframe, looking at her.
“I’m not afraid,” I said, but the truth was that I was scared. I was scared of everything. I was scared of losing her.
“You know, you’re standing there like the time when you were three years old and I just got back from the hospital. You stood there for the longest time, contemplating to give me your favorite toy or a flower you picked. You gave me both. That’s one of my fondest memories …”
A smile managed to emerge on my face and I couldn’t help but ran to her side.
I kneeled, and embraced her deeply. We both cried.
“It’s ok,” she said, while stroking my hair. Then, I forgot everything. I forgot that I was nervous, mad, lonely and sad. I looked at her rosy, porcelain face and kissed her soft cheeks, her forehead, her nose, chin and delicate hands. She smiled, because that’s how I kissed her when I was a little girl.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
“It’s ok. Julia, look at me. You’re my daughter, and I never doubted your strength and independence. You got here when you could, and that’s what’s important. This moment.”
“Mom, I don’t want to lose you. Not now. Not ever.”
She squeezed my hand and took in a deep breathe, “Julia, can you take me outside? Over there,” she pointed to the rye out the window.
The fields were close, just behind the wooden fence. I held her tight, and we took small steps to reach the edge.
“Aren’t they just beautiful?” She glided her palm through the tips of the golden harvest, and pulled few together in a bunch.
“Do you smell them Julia? This is our bread, this is our life.” She pulled one of the stalks from the earth and placed it in my hand. She smiled at me and I smiled back. The sun was beginning to set, transforming the sky into warm colors of reds, oranges and yellows.
“Julia, my child, look at the horizon.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “the horizon is where the earth meets with the heavens…Remember even when I’m gone, I will always be here with you. Like the sun, the sky and the earth, I will always be. And one day we will meet again. We will meet like the horizon. There is nothing to fear. I will always love you.”
A deep feeling of calmness, peace and love embraced my senses, and I knew that this is the moment, the only real moment we have. All my fears were gone.
(2003)
For years my life seemed like an endless routine. School and work, then work and home, and every day marked a date of a continued search for God knows what. I was happy though; I had goals and a path to follow, which was slowly being discovered. I was confided and I was ready for the surprises of life. This however, no body ever expected. No one thought about making life and death decisions. My mother needed a kidney transplant, and I was the only one to save her. It was a difficult moment, but I had to face it, and I knew what had to be done. It was the only way.
It was early September, and I just got hired after a three-month search with a fresh Masters degree. I mean, I could have had a job, but I was not about to settle for becoming an office secretary when my interest and talent, if I may add, was art. So, I became a manager in a local museum, and someday I knew I would open my own gallery with a cozy café and bookstore all in one. Later, I would begin my own collection of greeting cards that would force Hallmark to retire. My ideas might have been wild, but I thought they had a future.
I lived alone in a downtown studio apartment. The city was my home for five years; and even though the neighborhood looked nothing like Manhattan; the tall buildings, small boutiques and people strolling on the street gave a subtle allusion to New York life. The studio was quite spacious for one tenant, unless plants are considered living companions. In that case, I had four and they were the ideal roommates who listened well, never butted in and always kept their living space clean. I was quite a neat freak; well that was what my mother always called me. And she called me at least five times a day. I know that I could always relay on her, even when the blind dates she set me up with didn’t work out. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate all that she had done for me, but sometimes I just wanted to date a guy who no one knew and couldn’t predict the outcome. But even when those turned out to be losers, she always said, “Don’t worry, time will come when you will meet your destiny.” At least that was what she told me after “Mr. Right” dumped me for a woman that was twenty years older and twenty million richer than me. I agreed with her and didn’t worry too much, I felt young and full of potential. I wasn’t experienced in the men department anyways, not like my mom; she was undeniably the expert in relationships. After three divorces, she decided to fully take advantage of the poor, worthless creatures for their money, and she did it very well. Fur coats, diamond earrings, monthly facials, and manicures made her look fifteen years younger. She worked her magic well, and never felt inferior again. However, she by no means advised me to do the same, for she truly believed in love and only wanted for me to find what she couldn’t.
That September Saturday was a day that I had been anticipating for months. The morning seemed long. I tried to relax, stay in bed and watch re-runs of “Saved by the Bell.” I enjoyed the laziness just for few minutes; however, a day like this could not be wasted on admiring Zack, it meant cleaning time. I loved the fresh smell and the wrinkle free bed sheets. A dusted apartment did wonders for my mood, and the satisfaction of spotless kitchen floor was almost as good as… well, it just felt good. I had a life, I just liked it organized; perhaps a little too organized.
By 10:30 a.m. my mom had already called me twice.
“Hi Liz. Just checking if you didn’t forget… you have to start getting ready soon,” she gently proposed, but managed to move some nerve inside of me, since it was her second warning.
“Mom! Me? Forget? Really?”
“Don’t get upset. I’m just a little nervous… I worry about you and maybe you should think this through again, you can always change your mind.”
“I am making the right decision. We talked about this already a million times. So please just pick me up at 12.” I said, and took a deep breath in while hanging up the phone.
I understood her concerns, but I felt that a twenty-seven year old deserved her independence. And as much as I wanted my space, I realized that I couldn’t leave her out of my life. We only had each other.
My energy and a smile immediately came back when I saw my youthful mom drive up in front of my building. She beeped the horn of her freshly polished, red-hot BMW, even though I was already down stairs. She always did that, just so the neighbors would notice her. She sped through the streets. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, while she laughed and raised her hands up through the open roof. She looked and I think felt like a sixteen year old driving with a license for the very first time. It was nice to see her like that, enjoying life without a fear or worry.
In less than twenty minutes we were parked directly in front the St. Kristina’s Hospital. We walked in together. Mom held my hand tight and asked, “Are you o.k?”
“Yes, I think so. How are you?” My hands were becoming sweaty, and my heartbeat was speeding and sending vibration throughout my body. “Mom, do you have our robes?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Slippers?”
“Yes.”
“Did you take…”
“Yes, Yes! We got everything. We’ll be fine. Go with the doctor now, they’ll take me in a minute, and I’ll see you later. Ok?”
“Mom!?”
“Yes?”
“We’ll be fine, right?”
“Yes! No doubt about it.” she waived and blew a kiss my way. I walked away with the doctor to my right, his words quickly turned into mumble when I looked behind me to see her one more time. She was standing there in the distance, where I could only see her black leather pants and a tissue in her hand, for my vision was becoming blurry as tiers filled my eyes. I smiled to myself, and all the feelings of being scared, nervous and hesitant left my mind and body. I felt powerful because I made this decision a year ago, the first time she was diagnosed. I knew I could help her, but what I didn’t know was if her body would accept my kidney. I wanted her to live. I needed her too much. Without this surgery she would live no longer than three years. And I needed her for at least fifty. I closed my eyes, realizing that this is it. It’s life or death.
“Liz, Lizy,” a soft voice woke me up. I opened my eyes, but quickly closed them, for the room was very bright. “It’s o.k. Do you know where you are?” a nurse, perhaps a little older than me, asked.
“Yes. I think so. I mean, yes…How is my mom doing?”
“Well, first tell me how are you feeling?”
“No. First you tell me how my mother is?” I felt a chill and suddenly sensed a strong pain on the left side, a pain I never experienced before.
“Easy, easy. Relax. You’re mother is doing excellent, it’s you we all worried about…and look who’s here?”
“Mom!” I wanted to jump out of the bed, but my body felt too heavy to lift. She was seating in a wheelchair, wearing her pink gown, and a matching robe.
“Finally! I was starting to worry about you. Three days in a coma, hmm… I know you needed a rest from me, but three days is enough young lady.” She smiled. “Now, get better so we can take out the convertible before it gets too cold. Oh, and did you see the cuties walking around here? And they’re all doctors!”
I shook my head and smiled. Oh, yes, she was fine. We’ll both be just fine.
(2003)