Door Of Return Book 2: Crop Over

05. Grafting

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Written by Shae

There are some things the body remembers and there are some things that it forgets, like how painful an open wound can be. After the wound heals we pretend it never existed. We forget the things that happen to us. Where did you get that dark spot? When did that bruise heal? That bonding experience that you once had, forgotten, but it will always be inside you. No matter how much you try to rub it out, whether in your mind or your skin. The earth will never forget you; the air will never forget you. But you forgot about them. The journey that we were to go on is one of remembrance of that same pain. Pain. Why must I feel so much pain?

I look up to the night sky at Aso's camp, somewhat hoping that the twinkling stars would have an answer for me. Their response was nothing but a blank slate.

"You won't find your answers up there." A voice broke through my mental trance.

"What?" I asked, slowly fading back to reality. I looked up to see Aso's figure swaying towards me, her steps light, almost soundless. For a while, she sat with me by the campfire, both of us allowing the deep night to wash over us. The sea of silence was consuming; so different from the roaring rivers of the town I had to leave behind.

Did my mother see me leave? I thought. Would she think that I'd abandoned them? First Grandpa, and now me. I could feel the pressure rising once more at the thought of my family waking up to find an empty bed. I had left them notes, but even I knew that wouldn't be enough.

My mind slowly went to my grandmother, and I rubbed the necklace to ease my swirling thoughts. She was the one who had gifted it to me. I would never forget the words she spoke that day.

"When you walk out there, remember you have a village of ancestors behind you."

The necklace felt heavy on my chest as if punctuating her point in my mind. I had to remind myself that I was doing this for them, to get Grandpa back, to find the answers that would save everyone. And after all of this was over, I would never leave them again.

"Was your hometown always that quiet?" Aso asked. "That place, it did not look quiet."

Awkward phrasing aside, I understood her question perfectly.

"No, it wasn't always this way. I don't even think that my town even knows the definition of quiet. There would be people outside, friends talking about work, and mothers chasing their kids to go to bed."

I started to speak, hoping the conversation would calm my raging nerves. Reminisced about the town I had always known–smoke in the air, music blasting, its heartbeat echoed through the winding views of the stress. But the more I thought of home, the more my heart raced inside my chest.

Aso looked at me blankly, as if we were speaking two different languages.

"That sounds...bothersome," she said..

For a moment, I laughed, much to the increasing confusion of Aso.

"Yeah.", I answered " It does sound bothersome. But I was born into it. When you are born into something, iIt's like second nature to you. That bothersome party was...my life."

"Everyone seemed to disappear right before dark", Aso continued. "Why the silent town?"

"It's missing persons reports," I answered. "Our curfew has been strict. And people are afraid. They don't want to be next."

"Curfew didn't stop you from finding your way."

I didn't answer. The guilt once again piled on me.

My thoughts immediately went to Grandpa. He wasn't originally from Bridgetown, but the community made him their own. He was what we were all missing; a quiet, kind, calming eye in the middle of the wild town that is Bridgetown. And when he wasn't nurturing the people he loved, you would find him in his garden tending to the earth. His own life, within the soil, the veiny steams, the moist breath of dirt but most of all, him as its heartbeat.