Emerald: A Compilation Of Short Stories

Elizabeth

I see my daughter laying down on a bed, then wake up abruptly at the loud screaming emitting from the alarm clock on her nightstand, hitting 10 am. I'm happy to see that she woke up with, at least some joy, on this blessed day. It was Christmas, a day that miraculously brought the beloved family together, one day out of the year. This is what all I ever wanted, all I, Elizabeth, wanted was my family and their families to be united and not be broken.

I watched my sweetie as she slowly got out of bed and sadly look at the framed portrait of the generations of women in the family who she loved: my mother, me, herself, and her daughter. A single tear slide down her soft, gentle cheeks. I felt her pain of being apart of the only section of the family to currently live away from the rest, in the United States. I came down and gave her my warm embrace through my arms around her, even if she couldn't see them. "Não chore, minha princesa." I whispered, which means "don't cry, my princess" in Portuguese. "Don't feel depressed that you aren't with your whole family because I'm here with you." She laid her head on my shoulder and let the tear soak into my invisible blouse. I felt her appreciation and let my arms flow away from her body after she realized it was time to step forward and continue the day after 3 minutes of warm hugging. I watched her back go further away from me into her bathroom, closing the door behind her slowly to not wake up the rest of her family.

I traveled to see her husband and her kids, all sleeping like babies, except for my daughter's son. He had woken up, and was glaring at the curtains hanging on his window. I placed my hand on his chest. I knew he was excited, by the way his heart moved it seemed like he was happy. I pulled my hand away, got up and steered to the edge of the bed and looked at his face and saw no expression. I was confused. Why was his heart excited and not his face? I returned to my original position and placed my body at the end of his sanctuary. I knew he liked Christmas, it was his favorite holiday, from what I've seen every year. Why was this year different? I began to think of all the possibilities of why he didn't show emotion. From friends to politics, I stayed put and thought of all the possible reasons.

The turn of a doorknob at the end of the hall was heard. It startled me, bringing back memories of pencils dropping in testing areas back in school. Oh, I despised those assessments. There was always so much allotted time for me to read the books I interested in at that moment. I can admit that I did enjoy that bit, though. I giggled at the thought of the good times in my life. The blanket moved quickly. Did I startle him? I began to worry, I didn't mean to startle him. The bed began to shake slightly. I watched as his head moved from side to side rapidly, only to stop momentarily as my daughter opened the door to his room. For the first time, I absolutely forgot about my daughter in the hallway.

It took a while for him to get up out of bed. I was still puzzled by the fact that he couldn't get up immediately. I threw my body against the bed. I looked at the ceiling. Is he ok? His bed is mediocre. It's not of high standard, so why is he still laying there after about 5 minutes of being woken up? I thought. Then, I finally realized what he was doing. By looking at what he was looking at, I felt his pain. On the outer side of the window, a mini jungle had been dancing in the wind. To a stranger, it looked like a bunch of swaying trees. But to him, it was a family. A family that was happily united as one. I had never connected with him like this before. A single tear slide down my soft, gentle cheeks. I wiped the tear away with my left arm because today was gonna be a good day, not a mellow one. I got up off of the bed and confidently traveled with my grandson out of his room towards the Christmas tree.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I watched as my husband fastened his tie. With his white, cleanly laid hair and his enormous facial hair, my husband walked out of the bathroom and into the dining room with his right foot in front of the other. He confidently, but quietly, walked towards the end of the dining table. My two other daughters sat on either sides of the dining table, facing each other with anxious faces. Next to them were their families and my husband's other two families.

My two daughters at the table looked at each other, adjusting themselves in their seats. As my husband sat down, the two opened their mouths but before they said anything, I covered their mouths with my hands. I saw in their brains that they wanted to confront my husband, but I won't allow that, not on this day. And, the head of the table speaks first, and they knew that very well. We've always done it that way, so why was this time different?

"Boa noite." My husband started, which means good night in Portuguese. The rest of the table responded back in unison, except for one of my daughter's, Christine, youngest girl, Leticia. I looked at her and saw that the part of the tablecloth that was hanging off of the table moved slightly from Christine's angle towards Leticia's. My husband glared at her. She finally responded after the longest 5 seconds of her life.

At the same time, my daughter in the United States and her family had sat down at the dinner table to embrace each other's presence.

Every Christmas, I have an opening speech at the dinner table. Now that I'm not there anymore, I emit my words through my daughter in the United States and my husband so that my words can be heard by everyone. At 10 o'clock, I'd begin.

Although it was 7 o'clock in the United States, it was 10 o'clock in Brazil. I began emitting my words into my husband's brain, while everyone else at the table bowed their heads. I began talking to my husband, telling him how happy I was to see the family united.

So I'd like to begin by saying that I'm so happy to see the family united for this day, I began. Everyday, I wish that this family is together. Everyday, I wish that this family stops fighting with each other. We need to be united, not be a broken family. Ever since I passed away, I have seen every crack in the emerald of this family. A single tear slide down my husband's firm cheeks. The rest of the family lifted their heads to the sound of sniffling. My husband always cries when he channels me. So, they bowed their heads again and let me continue. We should be a family that is always united, not just one day out of 365. Let that echo in your brains, let that echo in your brains for years. Let that echo in your brains for the rest of your lives. We shouldn't steal from each other. We shouldn't insult each other's families. We are a family. This isn't what a family does. A family is people that love each other and would never hurt each other. Let's not forget that. I finished.

After that, my husband lead a prayer and everyone began eating.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The chime of the clock in the dining room was my queue for my daughter to channel me. I said a more calm speech because of how she followed my commands without fail and brought that down to her family. I explained to them that I feel bad that the family isn't united, but I was happy because of how my daughter's family was trying to reunite the family with thoughts of bringing one of my other daughters and her family to the United States. After my short speech to them, they began to eat happily, and that's what I wanted.

I was happy that although it was breaking, my daughter and her family was helping me sew the family emerald back together.