Magpie # 33.....

The Bottle.....
She slowly walked to the dresser and picked up the bottle of cologne....his cologne. Through her tears she read the label over and over and then lovingly touched the cap....the cap that he had touched last. Without opening it she put the bottle to the side of her nose and inhaled, experiencing the exquisite fragrance. She closed her eyes and let the memories rush over her like warm water.

He was gone. He was never coming back. She would never feel his arms around her again. She would never again feel his warm breath on her neck, smelling faintly of coffee and mint. Their lovemaking had taken her to new heights and had made her heart swell with such love that it frequently made her silently cry tears of joy that lazily slipped down her face. She had not thought it possible to love someone so deeply, so thoroughly, so intensely. They had so many plans, so many dreams and now it was gone, like a bright room submerged into darkness at the mere flick of a switch. In one second life changes, in one second her reason for living.... .breathing.... had disintegrated into nothing but emptiness.

If they had had a fight, she could fix that. If it was another woman, she could fight for him. But how do you compete with death. The call came from his childhood best friend informing her that there had been an accident. A motorcycle accident. And it was instant. In the blink of an eye, he was gone. He had flown home to Italy to visit his family and so not even his remains would be coming back. Nothing would be here with her in America except the memories, some articles of clothing..... and this bottle of cologne that he had forgotten to pack.

She was numb. She felt empty and hollow and the tears would not stop. She knew if she could only get angry it would help her, it would give her strength, but she did not have the energy for anger. She had no family of her own. She was alone and had been quite independent, earning her own way. She had been comfortable but not really happy until she met him. She had not thought it possible that being in love could change so much in one's life. She couldn't wait to see him at the end of her day. To feel his strong arms around her, his mouth on her neck, slowly creeping up to her own mouth as he would kiss her gently at first and then with more urgency. Whispering into her ear, he would lead her into the bedroom where they would tenderly make love, savoring the final moments breathlessly. She knew he was her future and in her dreams she saw them growing old together, having children, then grandchildren but always being deeply in love. Now it was gone and she was left here alone ...... and empty.

She went to the closet and buried her face in the few shirts hanging there that were his. She could smell him. The essence of him. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, taking him within her.

She slowly walked into the bathroom to take her shower. While doing so, her eyes fell upon a familiar box. She smiled bitterly. Yes, a few months ago she had bought this kit because she wanted to see if she was pregnant but it turned out she didn't get a chance to use it because she discovered there was no need. She used it this day because it would expire anyway. In a few minutes she stared at the result as her heart began to swell and a warmth covered her body.

It was positive. Perhaps she was not an empty vessel after all. As tears rolled down her face, she quietly said, "you have left me more than a bottle of cologne my love" and a genuine smile crept across her face. Yes, life can change in a second.

~ Inspired by a photo displayed in Magpie Tales ~

Magpie #31.....

Through the window.....
It was going to be a cold one tonight and I shivered at the thought of anyone.....any thing being at the mercy of the elements on a night such as this. Standing at my kitchen sink and filling up the old whistling kettle to put on the stove to boil, I glanced out the window. The bright floodlight from the tall wooden pole by the barn brightened and dimmed due to the blizzard conditions that obliterated my view intermittently. Further in the distance I could vaguely make out the warm glow of the lights from the huge farmhouse which sheltered my family; my daughter, her husband and their five children, not to mention miscellaneous pets of various sizes, shapes and ages. To my delight, they built my little house within walking distance. The barn sheltered the horses. These animals led better lives than some humans. This was a fact that I knew for sure.

I set the kettle on the stove, got out a large ceramic mug and the cocoa mix in readiness to make a comforting and warm brew to savor while reading an excellent book I had started yesterday. I heard clicking of nails from furry paws on the tile floor and looked down to see my best friend, my black lab, Sheba. "Say, old lady, you want to go outside before I settle down in my chair?". She wagged her tail and whined as she went to the door and nudged the bells I had hanging from the doorknob. "You're not gonna like it out there", I said as I opened the heavy wooden inside door and then the storm door. The wind tugged at the door and gusted in, bringing with it stinging cold needles of snow. Sheba quickly ran outside to do her business, her blackness making a stark impression in the world of white and swirling snow. I closed the door and went back to making my cup of cocoa, opening first one cupboard then another searching for the package of shortbread cookies.

I had the cookies on a plate and the cocoa made by the time Sheba barked at the door, impatiently letting me know that she was ready for admittance. As she came quickly inside, she stopped and shook her body, her ears flapping, as bits of melted snow flew off of her body and onto the floor, the table, the walls and me. Sheba trotted into the living room, her nails clicking on the kitchen floor and then turning into a soft thudding sound when her paws sunk into the thick carpeting as she headed toward the fireplace and the warm glow of the crackling fire. She settled herself with a grunt and a moan and began licking her paws to clean the snow off. I set my tray with the cocoa and cookies on a side table and settled myself into an overstuffed chair and reached for my book. Before opening it, however, I sat and gazed at nothing in particular and let my mind wander back to so many years ago.....a lifetime ago.

I came from such a poor family. There were so many of us that lived in that tiny shack that thinking of it now, it seems impossible that we all managed to survive. Uncles, aunts, cousins, siblings....we all lived together and worked together just to put food on the table. We lived so far out in the country with no electricity, no modern conveniences of any kind. The men worked for a nearby farmer and the women raised the children, cooked, cleaned and did the countless things that had to be done in order to run a household and keep a family alive. We did not go to school. There were no agencies back then that made us go. No one kept track of such things. My mother tried to teach us what she knew but soon it was obvious that mother had not had proper schooling herself and could not teach us what she simply did not know. My sister and I began to walk a distance of several miles through the woods that took us to the back of a church and the school at the church. We could quietly sneak through the trees and bushes and hidden by them we could sit under the window of the classroom and listen to the teacher without being seen. We could hear the lessons and would follow along with the class.....we corrected each other's work.

We got the benefits of the classroom every day that we could make it, seeing the flowing robes of the teacher always from behind. We never once saw her face and yet we felt we knew her. My sister and I were discovered one day by a gardener and when taken inside and our stories told and digested, we were offered cleaning jobs in trade for an education. I continued my education and finished college on a scholarship to become a teacher myself. Every time I would address my class with my back to the windows, it would bring back memories of how it all started. I married well, had children of my own and ended up living in my own little house on the property of my daughter's horse farm with my loyal Sheba.

All those nights I laid in bed as a child and cried at the hopelessness of our situation, I never dreamed that my life story would have a comforting ending; that I would be an honored and respected teacher, a motivational speaker and author with stories of my own that would prove to be an inspiration to many. You just never can tell, I thought to myself, as I set my mug down and opened my book. Sheba sighed and stretched herself out in front of the fire while the snow swirled and danced in the glow from the light on top of the pole.

~ Inspired by a photo displayed in Magpie Tales ~

Magpie #30.....

Apple Imperfect.....
Outside on the clothesline hung two loads of laundry gently flapping in the breeze; the sagging lines being held up by long boards with a nail sticking out close to one end to keep the clothes from dragging on the ground. As she hung them she had mentally made note of the items that needed a button or a seam repaired, not to mention several items brought back inside to go into the soaking bucket due to stains that hadn't come out. She carefully settled herself into an overstuffed chair in the sparse living room to ease her aching back. It wasn't only her back that ached; her feet ached, her shoulders ached and even her heart ached . The house was filled with the fragrance of freshly baked apple pies. That also had taken up a good portion of her morning; picking washing and peeling the apples from the tree in their backyard. The apples were never perfect, having brown spots and wormholes here and there on each one. It seemed that nothing was ever perfect in her life, she thought bitterly.

As her eyes drifted over the shabby furniture in the old farmhouse, she could pick out and name a hundred things that were imperfect just in this room. A stream of afternoon sunlight cut through the room, tiny particles of dust and lint floating in the beam of bright light. Like a performer with a spotlight focused on him, the cat lay in the halo of warm light created by the sun, having dreams of his own.

Content.

She stared at him for a few minutes. Content because he knew nothing more. Should she be content for the same reason, she pondered. How could she be. Although she had never known real discomfort like some unfortunate souls, she knew of pampered lives. She had read about the luxuries the rich could afford, having everything you could possibly want. She had seen the pictures in magazines of the rich and spoiled. She closed her eyes for a minute and let herself dream of what life could be like under those circumstances.

She allowed herself only a few minutes of this idleness and then pulled herself up from the chair and trudged into the kitchen to check on the pies. While waiting for them to finish baking, she took a warm sudsy dishrag and washed off the oilcloth covered kitchen table, noticing that it was beginning to flake in spots. Another imperfect thing she thought to herself and felt a disgusted look come over her face as a puff of air left her lips. Her gaze fell to the floor and took note of the cracked linoleum. It was clean....or as clean as she could get it, but it was faded and worn as well as cracked in more than a few places. She idly wondered how many footsteps it had taken to get it in such a condition.

She took the pies out of the oven and set them on wire racks on the counter to cool. They smelled delightful, even though the apples had not been perfect. She leaned against the back door frame and looked out through the bowed out screen with the cotton ball in the center of it. How ugly that was and yet it was rumored to keep flies away and so it was done. She watched her two children playing on the tire swing that hung from the huge oak tree. In her imperfect world, they were perfect. More than perfect....and she felt a smile creep across her lips.

She checked on the roast simmering in the pot on the stove, replaced the lid that didn't quite fit and glanced at the clock. Soon her husband would be home from work and then it would be time for supper. Supper. Clean up. Then sit in the living room and listen to the radio. Then bedtime.

Routine. Simple. Plain. But, oh-so-perfect in its routinely plain simplicity and she realized that she could not fault it because the imperfection was.....without question....beautiful.

And....fulfilling.

She brushed back a wisp of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand and began to set the table with her mismatched silverware as the children squealed with laughter, the dog barked playfully and the clothes flapped lazily in the warm summer breeze.

~ Inspired by a photo displayed in Magpie Tales ~

Magpie #29.....

The Cottage.....
The class looked up as the schoolroom door opened and a young girl, accompanied by the principal, walked in. "Class", he said, "I'd like to introduce you to our new student, Columbine Greenly. I trust you will all make her feel welcome." Next to him stood a rather plain girl, her hands hidden in the pockets of her dress. She glanced up only briefly before returning her gaze to the floor. You could tell she was horribly uncomfortable and painfully shy.

Some of the kids in the class snickered and whispered among themselves. The boys prone to bullying sat in the back and shuffled around. One of them coughed and then looked knowingly at the others who chuckled under their breath. All of this made Columbine even more self-conscious and if she could have, she would have melted into the tile floor. The principal put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her toward the teacher of this fifth grade class, Miss Blackwell, then turned abruptly and went out the door saying to no one in particular, "carry on then, class".

Miss Blackwell, after noting that this plain little girl had no self-esteem whatsoever, showed her to her desk. Columbine slid into the seat, mumbling a thank you. She wished she could just go home, or better yet, to the cottage, but she couldn't do that just yet. How she hated new situations and it seemed as though she was always having to face them. The teacher's voice droned on about the rainforest and the various species indigenous to the region. Columbine's mind began to drift. Her fantasies were her means of escape and in her world she felt self-reliant, confident and important. She was sought out by her peers and respected for her wisdom, which was far beyond her 11 years of age. Yes, in her world everyone wanted to be like her and be with her....totally opposite of what her real life was like.

Before she knew it, lunch recess was upon them. She followed her classmates to the cafeteria where they scattered in all directions seeking out their friends. She wasn't hungry and took very little of what was offered for lunch. She scanned the room and picked a spot at a table in the corner where she spread out her meager lunch and opened a book to read while eating. She was so engrossed in the book that she didn't notice the girl sliding into the chair beside her until she was already there, asking if it was alright for her to share the table. Colly nodded and went back to her book. The girl stated that her name was Margaret and that she loved to read too. Columbine told her that most everyone called her Colly for short and so began a friendship of two misfits. Margaret liked to wear tissue flowers in her hair. She would slowly and methodically accordion fold the tissue, pin it and then carefully pull the layers apart to make a lovely flower. She had them in all colors and refused to hear the taunting laughter of her classmates when she wore them. She liked to pretend she was a famous Spanish dancer with hair so black it had blue highlights in it; the tissue flower became a bright red rose as her coal black eyes slid over her admirers. Yes, Margaret had fantasies of her own.

Colly eventually told Margaret about her cottage in the woods and all the lovely things inside and around it. She told her about how her father lived abroad and would send money to the people she lived with to make sure she was taken care of. No, she didn't know why he lived abroad but it was necessary right now and soon they would be reunited. Because of his immense love for her, he had hired workmen to build her a cottage straight out of her dreams. It was set in the woods and unless you knew how to get there, you would never come across it accidentally. It was the keeper of Colly's happiest moments.....memories that had a life of their own, so intense you could smell the cookies baking, feel the hugs and bask in the warm glow of the fireplace. The fragrance of the wood burning, the pop and hiss of the crackling fire mixed with the laughter of a family bound by love. It was beautiful, cozy and secure and once there, she never wanted to leave but had to when her other life got in the way and she had chores to do and homework to complete. She would leave then and walk back home to once again experience the pain of being a little different and no one quite understanding it.

Margaret wanted to visit the cottage but Colly wasn't sure she could take her there. She tried to tell her how to get there but Margaret never could get the directions right and if Colly asked her to follow her, Margaret would later say that Colly never went anywhere, that she had just sat in the chair. How ridiculous was that? Colly suspected that possibly there was something wrong with Margaret and decided that perhaps she wasn't meant to see the cottage. Perhaps no one except herself and those already there were meant to see it.

As she grew older, Colly eventually became interested in things outside the cottage and visits became less regular until soon she was only visiting a few times a year, usually when things were tense and stressful. Colly's escape into a beautiful world of her own making was her protection against a harsh reality that she couldn't deal with at the time but it served her well. Colly grew up to become a noted child psychiatrist who fascinated the parents of her young patients because of her ability to reach them. She instinctively seemed to know exactly where those little souls went when their minds would drift away. She could walk up to the cottage door and knock politely to visit with no trouble at all. She had not forgotten the way.

~ Inspired by above photo displayed in Magpie Tales ~

Magpie Tale # 28.....

Small Pleasures.....
God, it was hot! She walked from the bank to her vehicle, knowing full well just how hot everything would be inside the closed and locked car. At 18 years old, she felt pretty good about herself. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk in a rhythm like a metronome keeping the beat on track. The sky was so blue and there was a hint of a breeze on this sultry July day. The mixed fragrances of cigarette and cigar smoke from passersby, diesel fumes from the city bus, car exhaust and the endless background noises of the city would soon be left behind. She was a bank employee and was out of work at 4 in the afternoon on this glorious summer day.

She had to park her car in a free parking zone because she didn't see the sense of paying money to park a vehicle all day long and the bank didn't provide parking for employees lower than department heads. Free parking areas were not close to downtown. Three blocks down, four blocks over, another three blocks down and she would be at her car. She just had started into the second block when a car slowed by her. It was a one-way street and she was walking the opposite way the man was driving. He said something but she couldn't hear and stopped walking and said 'pardon me'. He repeated what he had said the first time and it was vile and horrid. He had himself exposed and opened the door to show her his goods, all the while describing what he wanted to do to her.

Fear gripped her throat and her heart was slamming inside her chest, her fingers felt numb and her mind screamed at her......RUN. She started to run and he had to move on in the opposite way. She knew the city and knew that to come back around he would be coming down the street that she was headed toward, the one she had to pass to get to the last three blocks to her car. She had on 3 inch heels but she ran.....hoping desperately to beat him there. Gone were the pleasant thoughts of only a few minutes before as her breath came in gasps. Now she was out of the business district and so few, if any, people were on the sidewalks in this area. As she crossed over the road that was one way coming back she glanced up as far as she could see to ascertain if his vehicle was coming. So far nothing. She ran as fast as she possibly could and as she turned the corner to go the last three blocks she glanced around and there he was. He spotted her but couldn't make the turn from where he was; he would have to go up to the next light which was quite a distance....he couldn't turn around, it was one way. Her guardian angel was with her. She ran the last stretch, found her car, unlocked it with shaking hands and got inside. She slammed the door, locked it and laid on the front seat, out of sight. It was imperative he not know what kind of car she had.

The car was so hot but she was afraid to move.....what if he was on this street and saw her. She laid on the front seat and ran scenarios through her mind. What could she do if he came up and blocked her car in and broke her window making it easy to open the door and get to her. Tears formed in her eyes but she blinked them back. This was no time to fall apart; she had to keep a clear head. Across her hairline sweat formed in droplets and was now running down her face. She had sweat on her upper lip, her neck and arms. Her body was sticking to her dress but still she laid silently there with only the sound of her breathing and the muffled sounds of passing cars outside. Eventually she sat up and looked around quickly. She started her car and pulled out of the lot, headed for home. She didn't relax until she had gone 5 miles and was out of the city. She did not see him and under her breath she kept saying 'thank you, God, thank you God'.

The drive home was always something to anticipate. The window was down on the drivers side and the wind whipped her long hair around. The moving air felt so good against her sticky skin. At last she came to the gravel road that would get her to her road. She drove slowly as the dust was bad this time of year but kept looking at the rear view mirror. Finally the home stretch and when she pulled into her driveway, which was covered with a ceiling of green leaves from the many huge trees, she breathed a sigh of relief. The family dog ran alongside her car, barking his welcome before settling down underneath another tree to wait for her. She parked and headed toward the house where she knew that mom and grandma would be in the kitchen getting supper on the table. Yes, she told her mother about it and watched as her mother's hand went to her chest and fear spread over her face.

She felt dirty and sticky and hot. A bath was in order and that's exactly what she did before supper. It is a small pleasure, perhaps, but it was one that she would remember for many years as her brush with fear melted away in the bathwater.

~ Out of my mind inspired by a photo displayed in Magpie Tales ~