Fly Away Home

Chapter 9

I stare at the copper circle in my hands, continuing to trace my fingers around the edge. The shape is both mesmerizing and maddening. No matter where I find myself along its path, everything looks the same. Is this nothing but a hallucination? I've had vivid dreams before, but none so alive as this one. If this experience was only a product of my overactive imagination, does that make it any less real?

I sit there for ten minutes, or hours. I'm not sure which it is. A weird sense of déjà vu draws me back into the present. I glance to the left, but a vacant space on that empty sidewalk taunts me. There's no evidence of anyone having sat there. And no proof that a single penetrating gaze has turned my world upside down.

Upon recognizing the familiar ringing from inside, I jump from my seat and fly into the kitchen, "Hello?"

"Claire? I wasn't expecting to reach you. I figured I'd leave another message." So, I didn't imagine it all.

"Hi, Russell. I was outside, doing..." How do I explain what just happened? It might be impossible. "How long ago did you call?"

"Five minutes, ten at the most." It felt so much longer. Time distorts certain moments. It stretches and morphs into something infinite. Like a circle. "You're in the foothills, right? Not at some insanely high altitude?"

"What? Why?"

"You seem... quiet. And different. Not in a bad way. It's just, you sound both anxious and calm. I know, it doesn't make any sense." We can agree on that final part. Whatever happened over the past couple minutes runs deeper than the surface. "Are you still doing okay?"

I'm not sure how to respond since I don't have a clue what's happening around me. "I didn't sleep well last night... and I might have had a bit too much coffee this morning." That's what it feels like. I suppose it's not a complete lie. I was restless. And based upon my present thoughts, I suspect that will be the case this evening too.

"So, you can ignore the message I left earlier. I called to let you know we'll be arriving sometime tomorrow afternoon." I hear my niece pleading for a chance to speak in the background. "And Lizzie would like for you to make some of that famous lavender lemonade for her. Do you believe she still remembers drinking that in her sippy cup as a toddler when you visited the house?" That was such a long time ago. Things were so different. Russell was happily married. I was gainfully employed. The world continued to spin on its axis predictably. Without ever noticing it, subtle and imperceptible shifts gave rise to a new reality.

"I will be sure to have some waiting for her." With my supply of lemons waning, I'll save what's left in the refrigerator for Lizzie.

"Thanks again, Claire Bear. I owe you."

"It's no problem. I'm happy to help." I could use some help too, but I leave those silent pleas in a private place.

***

A deluge of emotions overwhelms me. I ease around the corner of the porch, not wanting to disrupt the sanctity of that moment from earlier. The vision of my garden, that chickadee, and... Jack. I need no external medium to record those thoughts for personal posterity. They're indelibly etched into my heart, an elemental beat to my soul's pulse.

I drag the rocking chair around the corner and place it next to my swing on the front porch. What I would give for a visit from Hank and Lydia right now. My focus returns to the conversation with Russell. Things change so much, and in such a short time.

The herbs in my repurposed flower boxes continue to stretch skyward. They peek over the railing, as if to greet me with encouragement. Anything and everything can grow and bloom when provided with nurturing care.