FEEL

17. Wollah

Wollah ~ the feeling when you realize something that you've misunderstood for years without knowing it.

~ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows ~

~°~

I rose at 10AM from a sleep so relishing that it still lingered heavily in my eyes and made my body feel hallow, although, in a peaceful sense. When I got up, the dark blinds were slightly drawn, not too much to wake me up, but enough to let in a little light. That, and the fact that Gracie was gone let me know that Mr Pierce had come in and she must have left when he opened the door.

I get up, looking around his bedroom for the first time. I couldn't do it when I first came in because I didn't want to appear like I was snooping. Mama says not to stick your nose around other people's houses, especially not their bedrooms. “It's none of your business,” she had said, even though I would catch her peeking into the neighbors' kitchen and judging how they have arranged their cups.

I head to the black-brown solid console about four feet from the right side of the bed. It has three pillar candles on either side, a cream colored vase with a green plant in it and some books stacked lying landscape with their titles facing front wards. I could bet all my money that every room in this house has at least one book in it.

I look at the frames on the walls. Artworks, mostly, but there's one in specific that catches my attention. He has a poem framed, called Millipede, with his name written at the bottom and the date.

Cameron Pierce, 2 April 2001.

I wasn't due to be born for another five years at that time. I wonder what age he must have been. I read the poem for a clue.

Nature's breath blew past my face,
Softly blown with poise and grace.
She blows her wind through tree by tree,
And to faraway lands the eye can't see.
All the while, birds sing a tune,
To kindly welcome the break of noon.
The sun brings forth her warming ray
To emphasize the rise of day.
And I, with a concentrated frown
Slowly bend, and place my hand down.
With palm pressed tightly on the hard land,
A millipede crawls on my hand.
I soak in the feel of its feathery feet,
For nature moves without repeat.

A little less skillful than the one I had read in his office, almost amateur in comparison, so I deducted it had to be among his first ones. Ten years old, maybe, if any younger than that, then that would make him a prodigy.

I leave the bedroom and go out into the living room. A sudden nervousness knawes at me as I narrow towards it. One that he might have caught me last night, or simply just one of knowing what I did in general.

The couch is empty, as if nobody had slept there to begin with. The entire house feels empty, in fact. I look around for Mr Pierce, only to find the balcony doors wide open and him standing outside. I head over there with slight hesitance. He smiles upon seeing me, making all my reservations disappear like they had never even been there.

“Good morning,” he greets me. I note that he's already dressed for the day. A dark button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his arms, navy blue to accentuate his eyes and matching pants, brown boots at his feet. Contrast to last night, it was sunny outside. A mild gust settled over, as if Boston wouldn't be so kind as to grant us any warmth in February, but there was light nonetheless.

I greet him back. “Hi,” then tell him, “We missed school.”

He chuckles. “We did, didn't we?”