My Shadow

The day he arrived it was a little chilly outside.  He was the last to emerge, white and tiny and squalling.  We wondered if he would even survive his entrance into the world.

The new arrival

The children loved him right away, of course.  I was a bit more reserved.  We already had 2 animals.  Now there were two more.  And these two weren’t house broken.  Still, they were kind of cute in a ugly-baby kind of way.

His momma, Clara Bell, had set up house in a quiet corner beneath my daughter’s bed.  She didn’t seem to mind his constant whining.  In fact, I think she kind of liked it.  It made it easier to keep track of him when he wandered farther than he’d intended and she had to seek him out.  She guarded him more closely than she did his older sister, my favorite.

As time passed and personality developed, he began to change, too.  He became more affectionate.  More playful.  More snuggly.  I have to admit, the first time he snuggled himself against my neck and wrapped his body in my hair it made my heart melt a little.  It felt good to have him purr against my neck as he drifted off to sleep.  It tickled when he buried his little kitten claws into my hair and waged a battle against the long strands that entangled him.

He grew so quickly, changed so much.  As each day passed he became a little darker.  A little bolder.  Soon he was fighting much larger monsters than my hair.  He found every Dust Bunny Monster in the house, slayed every Yarn Ball Monster on the premises and put every House Plant Monster in the place on red alert.   He defended his territory with a ferocity that would have impressed the Gods!

Soon enough, the day arrived that one of the babies had to go.  The choice wasn’t really ours to make.  So many others wanted his sister, a pretty little girl with an exotic face, just a shade lighter than her brother.  It seemed that he was to be ours.

So, we had the task of naming him.  It was simply too big a job.  We turned to Etsy.  It was a difficult decision, choosing between all the fantastic names suggested, but we finally all agreed.  Shadow suited him perfectly.

In time, he lived up to his name.  He was like my own little shadow, following my every footstep.  If I sat, he climbed onto my shoulder.  If I was mixing herbal concoctions, he was sitting in his spot on the counter supervising.  If I was cooking dinner, he was waiting patiently at my feet until I could pick him up again.  When it came time for bed, he would settle himself against my neck and purr us both to sleep, his little body warm and soft.

The day he discovered the computer, a whole new world opened up to him.  He could spend hours chasing the cursor across the screen.  And the keyboard!  He could make it beep as the cursor flew across the page in a storm of numbers and letters!  When I forced him to stop, he would turn his little dark nose up, gingerly step off my desk and settle himself on the window sill where he would glare at me and wait for his next opportunity.

It was his greatest passion ~ until he discovered my yarn basket…

He soon found that he  had a passion for jumping.  High.  Onto the fridge, into the pantry, atop my bookshelf.  Nothing was out of reach for this little guy.  As time passed, he learned to do it while holding his favorite mini-Care Bear in his mouth.  He carry the little pink bear to the highest peak, slap him off, then do it all over again.

The day he learned to drink from the toilet bowl was a monumental event.  He insisted on showing me at least 10 times.  He would come and slap at my ankle until I followed him into the bathroom, where he would balance on the edge as he sipped delicately from the porcelain bowl.  He only fell in twice.

When he was just too big to fit in our hand, the kids decided he was a football.  They would toss him back and forth, giggling gleefully.  It was an embarrassing moment for me when I caught them doing it and yelled at them, only to have Shadow silence me by running back to have them do it over and over again.  It became his favorite game.  The kids started calling him ‘Touchdown’, or “TD’ for short.  We could only assume he liked the name as much as the game, since he would come running when the kids hollered, “Ready to play, TD?”

He opened up a new world for us.  He taught us the ‘Dinner Time Dance’, a complicated little number that involved hopping and spinning on the two back legs while reaching for the food bag with his front paws, and he’d throw in a back flip or two if he was really out to impress us.   He taught us that the bathtub was the perfect place to hide for a sneak attack and the bathroom sink is a perfect napping spot.

Finally, the day came that he realized there was a world beyond our front door and he wanted badly to explore it.   The first time he darted out into it, I followed him.  He explored the tangle of vines that created a fence between us and the neighbors.  He examined the hollowed out tree stump and found the groundhog hole should only be entered by a groundhog.  He learned where the moles holed up and evicted them with all due haste.  He warned off the birds and chased the squirrels clean off our property.

For Shadow, each trip outside was a mission and a vacation, all rolled into one.  He would get his requisite hour or two outside, providing it wasn’t raining or snowing, then he would politely knock on my office window when he was ready to come back in.

Tonight, Shadow didn’t knock on my window, though.  Instead, we found his little broken body at the edge of our driveway.  We cried as we buried him beneath my office window.

I’m glad I took the time to stop and play with him when we woke up from our afternoon nap.  We played one more round of  ‘I can swing from your hair’.  He got in a wrestling match with my husband and came out the victor.  He did one last ‘Dinner Time Dance’ before he decided to take a stroll outside.

Now, my Shadow is gone and my heart hurts.  I’ve lit a candle for him and said a prayer.  I imagine that right about now he’s watching over us.  I hope he has a Care Bear and a neck to curl against, where ever he is.  I hope he gets fed good and they like to play ‘Touchdown’  in kitty-heaven.  I’m sure it won’t be long til he’s running the place.  Most of all, I hope he knows we loved him and we’ll miss him.

Sleep well, Shadow.

Gray Sky

The grayness of the sky

echoes the grayness in my soul

and it opens itself wide

pouring out the ache that lingers

and prods

and torments

until the raindrops on the window

echo the teardrops on my face

Encounter

I didn’t go searching for it, but as I stumbled through the dense underbrush of the forest, there it was.  It sat alone in a quiet spot, resting against the protective trunk of an old oak tree, nearly hidden by the roots that had penetrated the ground.

It must have been there for ages.  It seemed so lonely.  Abandoned.

I knelt on the forest  floor and gently pulled away the decaying leaves and bits of twig that had tried so hard to consume it.  Stubborn vines of ivy clung to it, fed off it, and they didn’t give up their  hold easily.   In time, though, they gave way  to reveal the most humble of fairy dwellings surrounded by lovely chunks of quartz and stone, remnants of a once-loved fairy lawn that boasted sprigs of dusty millers and patches of wild clover.

To my surprise, the door creaked open.  Slowly.  Tentatively.  From the crack in the door, I saw a grizzled little face peering up at me.  Suspicion shone in his eyes, but so did curiosity.

“Hello,”  I said.

The little man looked startled, but he neither answered my greeting or slammed shut the door.

I told him my name, but the suspicion in his eyes lingered.

I reached in my pocket, suddenly remembering the treasures I’d gathered while walking through the forest.  In my palm lay a tiny piece of quartz in the shape of a heart, an acorn and miniature pine cone.  I don’t know why I’d bothered to pick up the pine cone, but it had felt necessary.  I plucked it from my palm and set it on the rock that served as his doorstep, then backed up.

He studied the pine cone for a moment, then let the door open just a bit farther.  His eyes darted between the pine cone and me, his expression shifting rapidly between suspicion and longing.  Finally, longing won out and he darted from the safety of his home to snatch the pine cone, then dashed back in, slamming the door behind him.

It happened so quickly that I had little time to take in his appearance.  He had been nothing more than a blur of green beneath a white head of hair.

I waited patiently, trusting that the curiosity would draw him out once more.  I was rewarded a few moments later when the door creaked open, this time just a hair wider.  I was surprised to see light coming from the house.  Did the fairies have electricity?  Surely not.  My own curiosity drew me a step closer.  The little man backed up a step, but didn’t close the door.

I opened my hand that still held the treasures I’d found and I chose the quartz heart, remembering that someone had once told me how the fairy folk loved shiny things.  I placed the quartz where the pine cone had been.  His eyes lit up and I was startled to see that they  glowed a vivid green, in sharp contrast with his white, flowing hair and bushy white eyebrows.

Perhaps it was the temptation of the quartz, or perhaps he simply understood that I wasn’t there to harm him.   He stepped out more slowly this time, his eyes never leaving me for more than an instant.  He bent a lifted the stone, which was nearly as large as his chest, then walked backwards into his house.  This time, he didn’t bother to close the door behind him.

I looked at the acorn in my hand and shrugged.  There would be more acorns.  I placed it on his doorstep but didn’t move away.  If he wanted this treasure he’d have to trust me.

He moved into the doorway and looked up at me.  It occurred to me that I must appear very large to him.  He was no more than three inches tall and, even kneeling as I was, I towered over him.  He stepped back into his house, but reappeared quickly, something clutched in his hand.   He stepped onto the door stone and traded the acorn for the thing in his hand.

I looked down and saw a small, glittering bit of green.  He watched as my hand lowered, never flinching but prepared for flight.  I picked up the bit of green and suddenly it began to grow.  As I watched, the tiny thing grew to fill the palm of my hand.  It was an emerald, deep green, rough and huge.

When I looked back down he was gone and the door was closing behind him.

I waited.  I waited for long minutes that turned into an hour, that turned into three.  I held the emerald in my hand, absorbing its warmth and marveling at its beauty.  In time, the sun began to sink below the tree tops and the forest became dark and shadowed.  My eyes drifted shut despite my best efforts to keep them open.

When next my eyes opened, I was in my own bed.  Had it only been a dream?  Could a dream be quite that vivid?  That real?  I raised my hand to rub my eyes, hoping to clear them and my head at the same time and knew it hadn’t been a dream, for there in my hand was the emerald.

Remember When

I hate making the trip all the way out there. It’s so very far away, or at least, that’s how it seems. Besides, there are so many memories that require attention and yet, what’s the use? Why dredge up the whole sorry mess?

Still, we promised.

So, we drove. It was hot. Even the air conditioning in our new van couldn’t penetrate the heat. I hate being hot. I long for the coolness that I know the river is capable of providing, but we pass the access point without slowing down. No time. We are already late.

When we finally turn onto the long gravel road the dust billows around us and I remember once again why I hated summer in the country.

We speed up to outrun the clouds of dust that threaten to choke us. The winding path snakes on before us farther than the eye can see.

I long to roll down my window and breath deeply of the fresh air…air untainted by smog or pollution. Air free of the stench of human occupancy. I remember once again why I loved summer in the country.

Familiar landmarks are everywhere. The barn that fell during last winters’ snowfall. The tree snapped in half during last autumns ‘upper wind disturbance’. That’s what the officials called it. We who survived it called it a tornado. The power pole that gave under the weight of the ice and left us cold and stranded for a week.

All familiar. All dragging memories best forgotten to the surface where they could scrape and tear at me.

We turned the corner. The cemetery was still there. Still silent. Every one of the 57 tombstones proudly displayed a bouquet of plastic flowers, their petals drooping and beginning to fade. All but one. Its flowers were as new and vivid as the freshly-turned dirt that covered the grave.

The schoolhouse remained, standing sentinel over the dead.

A quiet laugh echoed through the trees. I smiled. Perhaps the children remained.

The steep driveway had narrowed, taken over by time and nature and lack of use. A crooked fissure divided the ground, evidence of the constant rains that marked May in Missouri. We navigated from memory.

The manor was deserted. It looked so sad that I had to look away. Once it had been so filled with love and life. Now it was simply abandoned.

My eyes fell upon the old corn crib. We had worked so very hard to make it a home for the animals. Hours of back-breaking labor in the heat of the summer and the cold of winter. Not that it was ever used for the animals. It was much more suited to a children’s clubhouse.

I stepped from the van and heard again the laughter of children from generations past. Familiar sounds in the quiet of our valley. Memories bombarded me and tears pricked my eyes.

My husband slipped his hand into mine and leaned near to whisper in my ear,

“Remember when…”

Dandelion Wishes

The innocence of childhood is remembered in a single wistful moment.  Velvety white and full of hope.  Close your eyes and make a wish.  Exhale into the universe and know the goddess hears your fervent whisper.

Weeds

Weed ~ noun

~A plant that grows where it is not wanted.

~A plant out of place

~A plant that is out of place in the environment in which it is found.

I love weeds.  I guess that’s a given, seeing as how I’ve chosen to spend my life studying them, but it’s more than that.   It’s a kinship that I feel for them.  A knowing, if you will.  I, to, have felt like a plant that grows where it is not wanted.  Out of place.

Maybe that is why I find myself snapping photos of them where ever I go.  Take the tenacious little fellas in the photo above.  They didn’t really belong in that crack that runs along the edge of my driveway, surrounded by rocks and dirt and, quite likely, his poor roots were firmly entrenched in an area of ground previously soaked in oil, transmission fluid and all manner of other toxic substances.  Yet, there he was.  Taller, sturdier and more beautiful than the environment in which he was growing.

I didn’t have the heart to pull him up.  He seemed so happy there.  So I left him.

And snapped a pic.

And now, when I start to feel out of place I can come back and find him.  When I feel like the world around me has gone to shit and there isn’t a single piece of goodness in sight I can look at that photo and find strength.

Unseen Beauty

Sometimes there is beauty right in front of us, but life obscures our vision. Remember to always look beyond your circumstances to find the beauty that is begging to be seen.