There are moments in life in which you pause for a moment and think, ‘This is important. This could change the course of my life. I’ll remember this for the rest of my life.’ Graduating high school. A first love. Your first job. Marriage. All of these are readily understood as important milestones in life that leave an impact on us. I’m not interested in those big obvious moments here.
In my first couple of years in this town, I spent a lot of time sampling the embarrassment of riches that are the half dozen different parks. Every few weeks, the dogs and I would check out a new one. I suspect each was more or less the same to the dogs but I enjoyed the different features each had to offer.
They started across the road and as they approached the trail-head and the dark woods beyond, Timothy allowed himself one more glance toward the Britten House and thought again, “I wonder if they know?”
Andrea, pale and thin in a dull gray chemise, sat on the cold stone floor on her right thigh, with her legs tucked under her, her right hand holding her up. Her long dark hair was stringy and hanging down around her face. Other than the light coming from an opening in the ceiling far above her, it was impossible to see any details of the room she was in.
“What...what happened to all of it?” Andrea asked, hardly able to get the words out, as tight and dry as her throat felt. She didn’t feel as though she were going to cry. But a ragged gasp escaped her mouth.
She reached out and lifted his chin up. Andrea said in tone that ensured her feelings could not be questioned, “Andreas, how could I forget you? You are a part of me, just as I was always a part of you.”
I turned to the man and his wife and blurted out, “I have to have this one.” They both smiled and he asked, “Oh you like this one?” I felt then that I needed to explain all of the recent discoveries I’d made, both about my ancestry, my grandmother, and the feathers. The woman smiled again and said, words I’ll never forget, “She’s still with you.”
