NothingA Story by Mike HedrickThe life of an old man.Nothing I couldn't recall how I got here but this town felt as much like
home as anything I can remember. The water lapped in and out against the rocky
shore simple and consistent like days into years. Perhaps that's why I kept
coming back to this wharf, even on days like this when the occasional flake of
snow flittered down through the air to touch the ground and disappear. The bench I sat on was cold and spoke of ages of rain, weathered
to raw and curling patterns of cracks among gray. There was nothing here but
the sound of the ocean and the breeze that held my face like an old love tender
yet painful in the biting cold. I sat and watched the gray sky trying to
remember old lives and breathed simply recalling bits and pieces of childhood,
running wild through the fields, alone with my imagination. After a glimpse I'd
lose it and my mind would once again wander to how I had come to this pier, in
this sleepy coastal town that felt so damn familiar but still seemed so
foreign. I was cogent in the moment but my memory of the actions that had led
me here were lost. I had the feeling that I'd had enough and should get up and
go home but I couldn't remember where home was. Instead I just sat looking out
to the sea and waited for a clue, some fleeting memory that could tell me where
I belonged. Perhaps I had drifted out again but there was suddenness that
awoke me as I heard a faint, "Hi"from behind me. I looked up and a
beautiful young woman rounded the bench and sat beside me. "You're too young for me dear, I'm an old man." I
said. She chuckled and touched my arm and we were quiet as we looked
out at the ocean. "Tell me a story." She said. I thought for a moment and began to tell the girl the pieces I
could remember about meeting my wife. "Brown hair, blue eyes, beautiful in
the way a bird gliding through the air is beautiful, she looked like you when
we first met," I said. She smiled. I thought about how much I missed the woman and why
I hadn't seen her in so many years but struggled to recall where she had gone
or what had happened to her. "During the war," she said. "Yes," I said quietly, "If I recall
correctly." I proceeded to tell of how we had met in a bar on one of the
small islands and had spent the night together when I got the call that the
harbor had been attacked and was ordered to report that evening. It seemed that
that was one detail that had not been lost to me as so many others had. When I
finished, quiet came again and the girl and I sat. The ocean curled and crashed
and tore into shore pulling pebbles back with it as it receded. My eyes danced watching the flight of a bird and I realized
there was a young woman sitting beside me, I smiled coyly and she smiled back. "Let's go." she said. "Oh, where are we going?" I said. "Home" she said. I marveled at how much she looked
like my wife. I told her this and she smiled. "I miss you daddy," she said. I was confused so I said
nothing and opted for the smile. She held my hand as we stood up and walked
back toward town. This relaxed me some but I wondered where she was taking me.
As we neared the street there was a bus with empirical letters emblazoned
across it. Charleston Alzheimer's Home. I panicked for a moment then caught a glimpse of a bird gliding through the sky and was reminded of my wife, we had met during the war. © 2010 Mike HedrickReviews
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1 Review Added on January 6, 2010 Last Updated on January 6, 2010 AuthorMike HedrickBoulder, COAboutMike Hedrick is a 24-year-old author in Boulder, CO. His work has appeared in several publications. Connections is his first novel. more..Writing
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