Begin Again

The Story

              “I said, who am I?” Ivy demanded.

Aunt Alda looked at the magician and he just shrugged.

“How do you deal with this when it happens?” he asked her.

Aunt Alda just sunk to the ground.

“Look in your locket Ivy,” she said. Her voice sounded sweet, but she was hiding her irritation that she still couldn’t remember.

Ivy stared at her for a moment before reaching for the necklace around her neck. She opened it and carefully pulled out the folded paper scrap. After she unfolded it, her bright green eyes stared at the words scribbled on the paper. Relief flooded her face as she read the paper.

“What happened to me Aunt Alda?” she asked when she was finished reading.

“I asked you to come to the magician for the Juniper Festival to see if he could help you with your memory. He said you were starting to remember, but you fell asleep. You started having nightmares and we had a hard time waking you up. I’m so sorry, Ivy.”

She buried her face in her hands as Ivy eyed her with sympathy. She slowly rose from her chair and wrapped her arms around her caretaker.

“It’s okay,” she whispered into her ear. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

Alda stroked Ivy’s brown hair that had fallen out of the braided bun. Then the magician cleared his throat.

“I hate to interrupt, but I have been invited to the castle for a feast. I’m terribly sorry that things did not turn out the way you had hoped. I must go.”

He motioned his hands for the women to move out of his shop so he could close his doors. As soon as his doors were locked, he brushed off his coat and made his way towards the castle with the other merchants. Ivy looked at her Aunt Alda, waiting for her to show her the way back to their living area. Alda took her by the hand, like a small child, and led her towards their house. Along the way, Alda told Ivy the story of her parents that she had told earlier in the day, and explained why Ivy couldn’t remember anything. Throughout the story, Ivy began to cry.              

When they had reached their house, Ivy sat in one of the wooden chairs and gazed into the distance.

“Alda? I don’t know what I’m going to do. I feel like I must be such a burden to you. I doubt that you can handle taking care of me every day,” she finally said.

Aunt Alda sat next to her and dried Ivy’s tears with her thumb.

“You are all I have left, Ivy. I desperately wish you could remember everything, but I will not abandon you. Ever.” Alda tried to make her words sound genuine.

She smiled as she spoke, but Ivy could detect the sadness in her eyes- but she didn’t see the annoyance and anger brewing in her soul. She felt like Alda’s eyes seemed too lifeless; like a memory, she thought they should sparkle when she smiled. Aunt Alda quickly turned away as she thought Ivy was detecting her lie. She turned toward the kitchen and pulled a ball of dough out of one of the cupboards. Her bony hands kneaded it a few times before she set it inside the stove to bake. All the while, Ivy sat in silence, trying to come up with some way for her to make Aunt Alda’s life easier.

“What if we wrote it down?” she asked.

“Wrote what down, sweetheart?” Alda responded.

“What if we wrote down what happened to my parents. That way you don’t have to tell me the story every morning. I could just read it myself before I leave my room,” Ivy explained. Her voice was filled with pride that she came up with this idea on her own.