Emy sat at her desk, pen in hand, paper quietly waiting for secrets to be drawn across its dry chest. None were forthcoming.
She put the pen back in its wooden holder and returned the paper to the right hand drawer. Dad would just have to forgive her tonight, or maybe, she thought, he could just reread one of the hundreds of letters she had already written.
Her mind drifted to the last day. They all had them, the whole crew. That moment on the dock, saying goodbye for the last time. And everyone cherished that day, that moment as perhaps the one memory that both held their world together and yet threatened on any given day to tear it apart.
Others had said goodbye to brothers or sisters or both. Some to whole families or, in Von's case, to no one. At least that's what he said. A bond formed in the stories of the dock, as they were called and Emy shared, perhaps most, a sense of shared burden with Kyra. Kyra didn't talk about it, but one could always see a certain sadness just under the surface of her smile, much like the shadow of a stingray trailing the shore; hard to see unless you knew just where to look.
Emy knew where to look. She had lost her mom when she was just a child and those memories were dreamlike at best, which, she often pondered, was perhaps not such a bad thing, for who is another but the memories we have of them. Kyra, she knew, was not as fortunate. She had Papa, and of that there was no doubt of the special bond between them, but to mention Papa was also to allude to what was not there--her parents. Emy couldn't bring her mom back and that could be borne. Kyra's mom and dad, however, could have been there, on the dock, that last day, and they weren't. A ton of rocks could not have weighted more on her shoulders, or so it seemed, if you knew where to look.
Reaching into the upper most drawer, Emy pulled out a small black box, a gift her father had thrust in her hand at the last moment. He had tears in his eyes, for her was certain, which her, was not. Like most, Emy imagined, she exchanged a final hug and I love you's as she placed the box in her coat pocket and boarded Bravo. Her dad stood his ground, eyes moist and reflective as she forced her body to turn and walk up the ramp. That simple turn of her shoulders, as she had written many times, well, let it be said it was well documented as the most difficult physical motion she had ever commanded.
Not until she boarded the ship and dried her eyes did she remember the box. Such a small thing, it fit in the palm of her hand like a large marble and just as easily hidden. From the corners appeared a light as if something inside was alive. It couldn't be she thought. He wouldn't have done this, no not this. But at last, it was true and she cried tears of love, which was not exactly the right words, but she could never find a way to adequately explain a feeling of such power and depth such that she had never felt before and had never felt since.
Inside the box was a living brooch, or so they were called. Many did not believe such a thing was possible. Her dad was not among them. Before mom died, and the details were always a bit fuzzy, Emy remembered a time where mom and dad and some sort of religious figure asked her to leave the room. What happened next, her father never did say, but the fact that something significant had happened, of that there was no doubt. Her mother passed away the next day and for weeks and weeks the small box and her father were as one.
In time, he came to wearing the brooch around his neck and he always referred to it as my love. When Emy reached maturation, her father explained all. He said many things that made no sense. This alone, however, was clear. Mom's essence, her spirit, lived on with the brooch. And that spirit, he said, could still communicate in movements of patterns of lights and energy. Emy believed but of this she knew. For him to give her the brooch, to give her her mother, his wife, to say goodbye to not one, but two was the greatest act of love she had ever witnessed.
Emy's eyes grew misty and she rubbed her thumb over the smooth glass like surface of the brooch. "I love you mom and so did dad, with all his heart. And I know he misses you more than you will ever know." As if on cue, the brooch begin to warm and the light within begin to dance and Emy sobbed uncontrollably.
Commentary: Mom
Categories: Story, Emy
25 comments:
This is beautifully written. I believe writing like this (especially suddenly, as you mentioned) comes from someplace special. I can't find the words to explain what I mean, but there's a source from which this wonderful sentiment originates. And of course, I can't explain that either. Can I be an more enigmatic?
You gave me a shudder when I listened to the commentary. When I opened your blog and saw the image, I immediately thought it looked like the inner workings of an alien clock. And I said those exact words.
I love the brooch idea, it's so beautiful. Thank you for this wonderful writing.
Thank you Deb. I went to dinner tonight and I wondered how it is that we never know when the last time will be (last time I ride my bike, last time I eat at this restaurant, last time I kiss someone goodbye) or, as I was thinking, the last time I post a chapter of this story. One never knows these things and I wondered, could this be it.
I had set this image to render before I left and it was finished when I got back home. I opened up the large rendered version and I knew--I knew this chapter as if I had lived it, as if it were a small piece of me rising to the surface, knocking at my consciousness to let it free, to let it out, to give it birth and wings and flight and all that.
So I uploaded the image and the words just came out as if I was Emy, in that room, thinking out loud and holding that brooch in my hands; and I thought, how wonderful would that be, to have that conduit to a loved one, and the emotion flowed.
I recorded the audio as soon as I finished writing and I just let my voice be my voice, the emotion still close to the surface, somewhat somber, somewhat reflective, somewhat stunned at words that seemed to just appear.
This image, and the meaning it holds, might just have moved to the top of my list in this story. I must say, it really does look magnificent when enlarged. I may have to do a special render of this one at a very large size for printing.
As always, thanks so much for those wonderfully kind and warm words. :-)
You'll have us all sobbing uncontrollably in a minute. A very emotional chapter! Well done.
The comment may be out of context...
but
the Fabulous image reminds me of
intricately cut and filigreed eggs
:)
a regular anon
yet to read it though
I have watched walk from a man who knew how to one who understood why the art he made was important and still be one who wondered how others might think of him as one who makes art -- real art -- fine and lasting.
Then I saw you go near that place where writer put expression and structure to human experience and question whether what came forth was worth much.
Now, I know you have been where few go and touched the truth of it. You move people to tears with beauty and recognition -- people who know you and people who don't.
But your own comment there says it all and I am in awe.
I like the implied motion in the image Tree...
Jenni, hopefully those are good tears, the kind that tells us life still matters and the love between a parent and a child is still important. As always, thanks for visiting and thanks for the kind sweet words. :-)
Anon, I love fractal images because there is so much to see, so much to spark the imagination. Without this image, we don't get this chapter, in fact, we don't get most of the chapters in this image inspired story, the only one I know of where the image comes first and the story takes it lead and direction from the image. Hope you get a chance to read this one soon. :-)
Liz, I've read your comment three times now and I'm just sitting here and wondering how we got from point A to point B, which is to say, I remember first reading your blog, and your postings were then, as they are now, simply superb, written with a mind sharp and bright and insightful, but written by one who knew how to write and how to write very well. And I wondered. I wondered if I left you a comment, if you would even take the time to reply, for I thought one that could do what you were doing, well, I thought maybe you were too busy, or too important to reply to a comment by someone like me, someone just in awe of what you were writing and writing on a daily basis. Now, to have you leave a comment like you did on this post, I just don't know what to say other than I never dreamed that one day you would come to my blog and say those incredibly wonderful things to me. Okay, now I think I'm going to go and read your comment a few more times. Makes me feel lighter, physically lighter just reading your words, if that makes any sense. :-)
Chicky, I have said the same thing about your postings, which is, your words flow with such an intelligent, sexy, feminine essence, I have often wondered how you walk, how you move your hands and fingers, and tilt your head and wink and, well, I'll stop there. :-D
And then I said, I like that way this one moves, so warm and enticing and appreciates a good wine and a firm slap. :-D
That was beautiful, Tree. I think it can stand alone outside the story by itself. Is that the brooch - cause it looks like a live organism. Imagine putting that on your lapel!
Jack, the image is the brooch, glass encased. :-)
Thanks for the kind words. I do try to write as many chapters as I can in such a way that they could stand alone, at least to some degree, so I appreciate you saying that this one meets that criteria.
Always good to see you around Jack. I would imagine you are about to head into final exam week soon. All the best to you my friend.
Meg, things are good in my world. I'm not sure what you are picking up on in this chapter, but I will say this: deep inside I have a lot of emotion, that at certain times I'm able to tap into, and sometimes I channel that emotion into the story in bits and pieces. As I've often said, if you want to know me, read the story, because I'm in it and this chapter is no different. Now, which parts of this chapter are me and which are just part of the story and of Emy, well, I'm willing to barter for that kind of inside information. So, whacha got shorty? :-D
On a serious note, I do so much appreciate your comments Meg. They are always insightful, sometimes sassy, but always engaged. :-)
There's that moment just before emotion is released, be it in tears or in laughter or any other kind, that's where this chapter sits for me. It was an amazing, goosepimply read.
More later, xo
Sunshine, so good to have you back online, you have no idea! :-D
Take your time getting caught up. Me and the gang aren't going anywhere. Sweet dreams when you get that far. :-)
Your picture is perfect, from the simple frame to the amazing and mysterious glowing interior. The emotions are vivid, and from the heart. Can't linger on the reading or I'll be overcome too.
Thanks Terry, this was a very special chapter for me. I'm not sure that if I hadn't written it last night when I did, that it would still be hanging around to write today. A lot of my chapters have been that way. They seem to exist within a small window of time and I either get them out or they disappear, in some cases, forever. As always, thanks for the kind words.
I LOVED this!! Excellent! The frac is incredible too, perfect for this. I love the idea of the living brooch since there are many things that have an essance of the owner who has passed. I'm in awe.
Karen, so glad you liked this chapter. This image is quickly growing to be one of my faves, in part for what it represents. The large version on my monitor just blows me away.
What if Love was the universal force and that we ourselves were made of Love, the essence of Love. In that case, why should that Love exist only within the boundaries of a physical body? In this story, it doesn't--because its my story and I say so! :-D
I've always thought love transcended time and space; it performs miracles.
I truly believe that our energy can be felt after we die; I've had experiences with my grandparents and other family. The energy of something my grandmother gave me, carries some of her with it.
Look at the energy stones/gems have and all the physical properties. My amethysts, quartz, etc., are all tuned to my energy and if I get energy from them. If that makes sense... it's awesome. I don't let anyone touch my stones, or if they do, I have to cleanse them.
Oh, I just can't resist that softball. You can touch my jewels anytime. :-D
Now, as for Love, I couldn't agree more. Time and Space exist within Love, not the other way around.
*snortle* Nothing more precious than the family jewels... Is Jack bursting with pride or what?
Oh, you should see. The young man is blushing red with excitement, or is that pride. Either way, he looks like a soldier on parade. :-D
Quick version, which is equal in meaning to mess.
Reading this chapter yesterday, the writing beside that amazing fractal blew me away, and it became all the more poignant listening to you speak about it thereafter. :-)
This was a special one.
I do so love the way you write, always have, even before the story. You just have a way with words, a gift for expression, for touching on emotion without skating around, without drowning the implication of what you want to say. Less is always more here. This chapter is a perfect example of that.
One thing that we all know what feels like is loss. Knowing beforehand or having to come to terms with it after the fact, I don't know that either is easier. You've shown us some of what went on down at the dock that day, and you did it so very well, but one would have to walk in those shoes to know exactly how that would feel - it's unimaginable, to have to say goodbye as they did, to all that they did, and the reference to Von just makes that part even more distressing to contemplate.
Kyra is special for many reasons, her own, but also for being the first, and through Papa. Much as you have told about her, all the more one wants to know. That more than anything is what you should take pride in, that ability, to not only hold interest in your characters and your story, but to always leave us wanting more.
I like Emy very much, I like that she looks closer, and that she is aware of Kyra in this manner, where many other crewmembers may not be. As with numerous other parts of the story, whether or not you elaborate on why Kyra's parents were not there to see her off, matters not somehow. We don't need to know the details to 'understand' that it hurt, that it hurts still.
In such a situation and where there has been loss, it's impossible not to wish, at least for a time (or sometimes), that things could have been different. Where there is loss, that we might see them again. Three times, the room and Kieran (and Yul), the folio and now the brooch, the divide has been bridged to some extent or another. Whatever a person believes, there’s something very comforting about those three ‘bridges’, also in regards to empathy with the characters and being happy for them, so to speak, that though there has been great pain/loss, some things are not completely final. The brooch is such a lovely concept, the simple idea that such a thing might be possible (even in fantasy), that a person’s essence could live on, be taken with, carried in this manner is just thoroughly touching, heart warming. And so hopeful.
As for that last part, the part about the gift of this brooch being given. Wow! Inadequate, but Emy said it best. Wow goes for it all, beginning to end, image, words, audio, all of it.
Wouldn’t you know it, ‘stuff’ came up this morning, so rain check on DTWP. Wish I were less responsible, I’d call in sick. :-)
Sunshine, that last part, where Em's dad gave her the brooch, to me, that was the ting of the glass of this chapter.
I remember very clearly that moment as a child that I first felt the separation. What I mean by separation is this: There is family (parents and children) and then there is the individual relationships within that family (husband/wife and parent/child(ren). For me, there was a time when the family was just one thing, all equal, a single entity or unit so to speak. And then, there was that moment when I realized that my mom and dad had a relationship and a life that did not always include me and I also realized that in certain matters, that relationship existed on a plane, that as a child, I could never.
So what does this have to do with this chapter? Well, when Em's dad gave her that brooch, gave her his wife, it spoke to three things in my mind: (1) he was parting with his spouse--breaking the special bond between the two and including the daughter in that process--not an easy thing to do and something I think few spouses would have been able to do (so that in and of itself was a very special act); (2) he knew if he kept the brooch, his wife would die with him on the planet, so by making the choice to give "her" up, he gave her life--a very tough sacrifice, since I think most spouses (lovers) would want to be together to the end; (3) he gave Em her mom back, which means he had to take her into consideration and in that consideration valued her needs over his own.
I might need more coffee, but I hope that sheds some light on this chapter and on who Em's dad was--a very special hynerian in his own right. As always my dear sweetest one, your comments thrill me to no end and if the work day wasn't starting in two minutes, I'd write much more in response to your insights and this chapter. Hugs and kisses and again, so good to have you back. :-)
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