and years it turned into something appealing.
With blood, sweat, and tears, Kenneth and his sons transformed this sunny site to a spectacular rose garden, using a mix of cuttings and new plants. Craving the lush, fully petal fragrance of a classic rose they planted old-fashioned roses blended with other perennials and shrubs.
No one knew that Kenneth sat thinking I cannot recall my child-self, the kid who loved sunshine and rain all the same. The morning my parents and my home vanished with one loud boom I saw only darkness around the light and soon there were no more colors in my world. The blue that once was healing now has become void and cold. The thing is I just do not care. I sit here cold, comfortable, and numb.
The day Anthony graduated from high school. Timothy thought it is finally here, the steppingstone to the real world. He had prepared for this moment. It was time for him and his brother to step out into the world.
The boys watched movies, listened to the shrill news media, and politicians keeping the romantic emotion alive. Each played a role in encouraging them to serve their country. These guys were the ones who would lay down life and limb to do what was right. God gave them their arms for love, for helping, for kindness and peace. Now it was time to use their arms for the good.
They took the piece of paper handed to them, read it, and signed on the dotted line. Both boys were now in the Army, grabbing their ticket to freedom and ready to prove they could accomplish something.
Everyone in the Army obeyed orders. In the Army you moved as one. Both boys did that their whole life, working together as a team for the good of the family. The Army and their family both worked as if there were just one brain. Now the young Turner men filled the ranks with other warm uniformed bodies in heavy boots. They were fast learners and obeyed their superiors without question. After boot camp they would probably separate, but until then they connected.
Writing letters home was the most difficult for both. Putting pen to paper opened their locked down emotions. At the time they thwarted any suffering that interfered with their work or survival. Anthony always cried when he wrote. He was a poor speller, so he did not use big words. His letters were brief notes, always showing tear stains.
Kenneth walked to the end of the garden path and stood looking at the mailbox. It brought a smile to his face. It looked like a large birdhouse with a hole in the front large enough for the mail and mounted on a pole. The boys painted many bright colors in such a way you could imagine it being decorated by nursery school kids. Well, it was. The mailbox was a project that Miki, Kenneth, and their dad worked on together. Kenneth picked up the mail and smiled. He thought I remember being happy. Now the years of grief condensed right above my head and turned into a large cloud blocking all the sun.
He sat on the porch swing, read the notes from the boys, and watched the petals drop from the full blooming roses. He could not help but think I have let only creeping sorrow in where there should be the joy.
Stepping Out
When Mary was younger, she had to stay at home for the long nights of discontent. Now that she was older, she would grab her coat, hit the road where it was quiet and walk. She was not a girl anymore and she never would be again. No longer did she hang on mom’s words or want to be like her, determined to be as different as possible. One day she bagged all her clothes and took them to the thrift store. She would design and make her own clothes.
She reached a certain point in her life when she wanted to be independent. She had the feeling that she needed an adventure, something exciting and new, to show everyone that she was old enough to be on her own for once.
One lovely balmy morning, Mary woke in a maddening rush to get a part-time job. She was in her last year of high school and had no social life. Her brothers enlisted in the Army, making the comfort of home less comfortable. Her sewing skills were such she yearned to style fabrics and materials beyond her means. If she had a job, freedom and independence would be within reach. She took her first steps to becoming a grown-up.
As the day moved on, the sky became overwhelmed with emotion, reminding her of the years being stricken with the heavy load of emotions. As memories flashed through her mind, tears threatened to unleash themselves. Mary found a tiny café huddled despondent among two buildings. She eyed the sky nervously. The morning clouds that were wispy and white, now were turning darker and denser. Mary quickened her pace and opened the door to a warm and cheery interior, with bright lights, colorful walls, and smells of pumpkin spice cakes.
Her stomach clenched with hunger at the thought of sweet, honey rolls. She could imagine the warm, fluffy bun dripping with amber-colored liquid. As sweet, savory aromas lingered in the air, she focused on finding a seat.
Looking around Mary observed white china pots on round tables that mostly seated just two people, but at least one person occupied them all. Although Mary was a complete and real person, she was also something like a rag doll in that she came with a lot of “stuffing.” This stuffing composed of the notions, beliefs, thoughts, and feelings she had developed over the years.
Some of her stuffing was lumpy which caused her great pain and embarrassment because she felt less than perfect. These lumps were fears and unpleasant memories of the past, preventing her from presenting her “smoothest” self to the world.
The way she presented herself became important to Mary when another doll of a person, with one eye closed and the other lazily winked, flashed a signal for her to sit with him. A shot of adrenaline hit her heart. With hesitation she thought am I lovely, is my face smooth, are my cheeks rosy and do I have a nicely contoured shape?
She looked him over and realized in so many ways they were exactly alike----good hair, sparkly eyes, and a hang-loose attitude toward life. It delighted to discover they were different, too. She was wonderfully female; he was wonderfully male.
Mary walked over to his table and stopped, “Excuse me, is this seat taken?”
His smile warmed her, “Not yet. Please, have a seat and join me for some tea.”
She took in his muscles, the clean-shaven square jaw and tuned into his voice. It was as deep as any man. He smiled with ease.
She closed her hand around her cup, feeling warmth.
After sipping tea and chatting with him, she learned his name was Adam, and he worked for the nearby furniture manufacturing company as a traveling salesman. He was in town every two weeks to work in the administrative office before another trip on the road. They exchanged phone numbers. She wondered if he had stuffing and if he did what kind?
They parted with a “call you soon”.
Parting brought thoughts of I want him. Maybe not for keeps, just to play, time will tell.
Mary saw this opportunity as a rope ladder dropped from heaven. She regarded the time ahead as her new dawn, bringing new opportunities, new friends, and new prospects. “It will be as looking through a clean, clear windowpane,” she said out loud for anyone to hear.
None of her past un-pleasantries quashed her zeal or her anticipation of her chance to aim higher, to spend more effort, and to come closer to her ultimate life goals. It was important that she have a fresh attitude in the face of this new beginning. She had stars in her eyes and saw only positive opportunities ahead.
Mary got a part-time job at Sam’s Fabric Shop as a salesclerk. Before work she would stop at the café and sit, sip tea, and daydream of Adam. She was hopelessly, madly, and passionately in love.
So,
