Willow Wind

Memories are what make us human, but can they keep us alive.

           The darkness changed to hues of orange and pink as music began to dance around her. A light breeze tickled the hairs over her neck as her eyes opened to the memories that stretched before her.

            She was outside their cabin in New Mexico; a place she hadn’t been in years. It seemed like only yesterday that she and her husband had spent their honeymoon wrapped up in a blanket on the porch. She turned to look at the wooden cabin hoping to see the man she missed desperately. From inside she heard laughter that rang through the hills around her, but she couldn’t join in the fun. This had happened before, but last time it was a different song ringing in her ears.

            The tune urged her forward; she went up each stair holding tight to the railing. Once on the porch, she breathed deep at the effort it took to pull-up those steps. Over the years she had run and jumped like a gazelle with her daughter up and down those small stairs, but why did she struggle so now? Nothing seemed to make sense.

            “Mom,” a child-like voice shouted joyfully. She turned back toward the lawn to see her daughter jumping rope in the noon time sun. Her head was spinning as the music continued, but she couldn’t help watching her six year old daughter’s gleeful attempt at jumping rope. Her rich brown hair bounced around her face, and she treasured the precious freckles on her nose.

            “Wow Hannah, look at you go,” she heard someone say. She turned around to the doorway and there stood the image of herself.

            What’s going on? Is this a dream? Why are these memories playing out before me? Why is this music so familiar? Then the image of her daughter and the mountains before her faded into darkness as the music ceased. No please, I have more questions.

She almost gave into the darkness but the music came again, and she now found herself in her kitchen. Her Saturday morning pancakes were cooking on the griddle, but the usual smell of blueberries did not fill her nose. She stepped closer to the window and watched the weeping willows sway with the music that surrounded her.

“Mom,” she heard her sweet Hannah say. She turned to see the memory of herself flipping pancakes. Her beloved Daniel read the paper, while the twelve year old Hannah sat on the counter.

“Yes dear.”

“Why do I have to practice?’

“You chose the clarinet, Hannah, so you have to practice,” she watched herself say.

“Besides, you play beautifully,” Daniel said with his contagious smile.

“I’ll never get these solos right.”

“Just keep practicing, Hannah. I love to hear you play,” she heard herself say as the memory of herself stepped over and kissed Hannah’s forehead. She felt like crying, but the tears wouldn’t come. A new level of frustration came over her as the music faded

No, I need answers. Why is this happening? She tried to shout but the words wouldn’t come. The music pulled her away from the kitchen, and as the music slowed and softened she turned to find herself in another familiar spot.

The willow trees of her old Savannah home danced before her.  She took in a deep breath, wanting to take in the warm sweet smells of her childhood home, but instead the smell of bleach and latex filled her nose. What’s going on?

“Will you marry me,” she heard Daniel say as she turned around and looked at the young face of her husband knelling beneath the swaying branches. It had been the most romantic moment of her life, but then something tingled in her mind as the music in her ears began to crescendo. She turned from the warm colors of a Savannah evening to the blue hues of night. Flashing before her were the lights of the local theatre. The title of Les Miserables was before her. People were leaving the theatre still looking at the Playbills to refer characters to actors. She watched Daniel and herself exit the theater walking arm and arm. Then she rushed to join them on the other side of the street. All the while, something inside began to shake as the sharp musical melodies continued playing.

“I’ll get the car, madam,” Daniel had said with a slight grin.

“Oh please, don’t be silly,” the vision of herself said holding tight to Daniel’s hand.

This is how it happened.

“Let me be the gentleman on our anniversary,” Daniel insisted as he dashed off across the street.

Go with him, she found herself trying to say as the musical tones deepened. Then the lights came, followed by screeching tires. The music stopped and the darkness set in around her.

***

“You don’t have to practice so much, Hannah.”

“I know, Dad, but my recital solos are coming up. I really think Mom enjoys it.”

“Baby, she’s-”

“I know she’s in a coma, but the music allows me to hold on to the memories,” Hannah said as she looked over at her mother’s still frame. She listened to the incessant beeping of the machines that surrounded them both. Then wet her reed, and again began playing her clarinet.

The darkness inside illuminated to hopeful memories, once again.

 

 

Reviews

[Bubo]

This was so sad!!The looking back on memories and the end was stunning, cleverly written.
Although in a coma the love of her family still are within her and hopefully will bring her back........really enjoyed this.

[Amor-de-angel]

What a wonderfully written piece. Very moving. Beautiful

[Althea]

Stunning, poignant, and sad. A wonderful startling ending that calls up emotions, but also gives hope. The tight-knit bond of the family here is wonderfully expressed. Something to work on, though, is using some other words besides she. When you keep saying she, she, she to refer to the mom, it takes away from the flow of the piece. If you don't want to give her a name, and I think it's important that she remain nameless, you can just say things like the woman, or the mother. Great read!