Death and Tea at Three

22 Harold and the Adventure Jar

From the frosted peaks of the Swiss Alps, to the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu, Julia wanted to see it all. She hung maps and pictures all over the house depicting the places she wanted to go.

This, among many other things in life, annoyed Harold very much. Not because he didn't want to travel, but because there was never a definitive plan. When others would ask Julia where she wanted to go, she would often reply with, "Everywhere". To Harold, this was not an acceptable answer. If she had said she wanted to explore the temples in Taiwan, or watch Manchester United play at Old Trafford, he would have been more than happy to go along with it – especially with the latter. That, however, was not Julia. She wanted to see every mountain and valley, every stadium and cathedral. There was nowhere she did not want to go.

It was Julia's idea to create the adventure jar – a glass container with a chipped gold lid, the word 'Adventure' inscribed in black permanent marker on a piece of masking tape. Every month, both Harold and Julia would place whatever money they did not spend into the jar. Julia would constantly remind Harold that once the jar became full, they would use whatever was in there to travel somewhere.

Harold did not like the jar at all. In fact, he found the whole thing quite insulting. Harold prided himself on his ability to save and invest wisely. He was not one to splurge or take risks, thus he saw no need for a jar which promoted exactly that.

To Julia, the very idea of the jar was something to be excited about. With every dollar she placed into it, her brown eyes would light up brighter than any cathedral lights. The jar was their beacon of hope - a guiding principle that would one day allow them to venture forth beyond the city.

For many weeks, Harold was reluctant to use the jar. Julia would watch as Harold would stand in front of the jar as if contemplating the decision, only to walk away without even lifting the lid.

If Harold recalled correctly, it was a Sunday when he first decided to use the jar. He had just finished a music gig the night before, playing the keys at a fancy restaurant in the downtown core. It was the kind of restaurant that required reservations months in advance. The food was high-class, and the people were even higher. Despite the clientele being more than well-off, he had been tipped sparingly.

That Sunday morning, Harold was more than a little disgruntled. His head ached, he was tired, and all he had in his bloody pocket was a five-dollar bill from the night before. Harold glanced toward Julia, who was sitting in a chair against the window sill, using the morning rays to light up the pages in front of her.

Harold may have been miserable, but he knew that was no reason for Julia to be unhappy. He stood up and quietly trudged toward the adventure jar. He touched the masking tape, which was firmly stuck to the glass jar. As he brushed his thumb against the word Adventure, he imagined him and Julia in a happier place. He desperately wanted that- not just for himself, but for her. It was always for her. Harold opened the lid, reached into his pocket, and placed the bill into the jar. He turned his head ever so slightly toward Julia. He did not want to look at her directly, as he did not want to draw attention to his gesture. To his surprise, she was no longer sitting by the window ledge. Harold turned his head completely around, wondering where she had gone. He then felt her arms wrap around him. Her grip was tighter than ever. Harold's misery, pain, and stress melted away in her arms. His body sank into her, in the way one would sink into a bed after a long day. It was then that Harold promised himself to place every extra penny he earned into the jar.

The jar never did become full. Life, like always, found a way to intrude. There was the time when the roof collapsed after a terrible storm. Then there were the many nursing and teaching courses that both Julia and Harold had to take respectively. There always seemed to be something else they both needed to learn to keep the jobs they already had.

And then, of course, Harold had to pay for his parents' funeral. They had both passed away within two weeks of one another. His father was the first to go, and then, shortly after, his mother followed.

Soon it became a common occurrence, taking money from the adventure jar. Julia cynically joked that perhaps they should replace the word 'Adventure' with 'Emergency'. Harold did not find this particularly funny. In fact, he found it quite sad. After his parents' death, Harold started to place more money into the jar, hoping that one day he could fill it. That perhaps an adventure, even in their old age, was still possible. If she wanted to see mountains, he would show her mountains.

The only mountains Julia ever saw, however, were the ones she kept as pictures. And the only cathedrals she ever visited were the ones that were walking distance from her home.

These dreams would remain dreams for both Harold and Julia. This time it was not life that intruded, but death. Julia's cancer took hold quicker and stronger than anyone could have ever anticipated.

There was no longer any adventure on Harold's mind. Not even a trip to Old Trafford would have tempted him away from Julia. She was everything, and everything was about to be taken away. Harold spared no expense when it came to Julia's care and treatment. He promised to plunge himself into debt if he had to, and that is exactly what he did. In his mind, Julia's illness was the last great adventure of his life. There was no longer a need to plan ahead or think of the future. For Harold, the most important thing was being taken away, and no amount of planning or saving would help.

Harold never saw cathedrals or stadiums. He never saw mountains or valleys. He never really saw anything again. His desire for adventure died with Julia — his everything.