Lost

14

Lost

So Alivia, where do I start. I suppose, I should start with a thank you. Thank you so much for coming over this afternoon. I do appreciate it. And also, I must warn you that Rosy, the little bird that was fluttering all around you when you first strolled up to my door, might interrupt us. She does, around this time, tend to land on my window ledge and sing a song or two which is something that she's been doing for a rather long time. I affectionately call her my yellow and blue gift that just keeps on giving.

Anyhow, before we commence with the personal interview, which I surmise will be rather extensive, I was just thinking that maybe I should take a few moments to introduce you to the story that you'll be ghost writing for me. It's a somewhat watered-down version that might assist you in some possible way when we do start the question-and-answer session.

And it's a true story that I, as much as I might want, will never be able to write and that's because I'm lacking the skills, the ones that you possess, to really make it shine as it deserves. As she, deserves.

In any case, I believe the world needs to hear it. To experience it. To reminisce about it from time to time. To have it linger within them as it has lingered within me ever since that day. An account, which deeply saddens me. A story that doesn't have a good beginning and this isn't right. Not right at all. In fact, I was hoping that you might be able to correct this issue once you've heard what I have to say.

Which brings me, without further delay, to the story itself. And I'll begin it by first stating that I once knew a prosperous man who was of average size and weight. He was a quiet person who lived a peaceful life that turned chaotic one night when this random question crept into his mind as he rested in a chair that was placed on a wooden porch.

The kind of question that shook him harder than any earthquake has done to a man. A query that took over his every thought and forced him to ask the following, and that is, what do you reckon, you foolish old geezer, would happen if you, an unassuming man, who loves his solitude like a beaver loves a log, just packed up and left town without so much as a whisper.

And the answer to this question, which was a gloomy one at that, was nothing. Nothing would occur if he actually did what he hypothetically proposed because he knew no one and no one knew him so therefore who would even care if he was gone and this made him feel, for the first time in his whole life, very lonely. So very, very lonely.

An emotion, that the stronger it got, the more it pushed him to do something, anything at all, to change an unfortunate reality that was once hidden in plain sight but was now fully revealed. A complete modification of his life from one end of it to the other that needed to take place before it was too late but what could he do to make this happen he wondered. And this is when he, after much contemplation, devised a way.

A grand plan, it was, that he enthusiastically put into motion the next day about the time that the sunlight began to fade. A collection of systematic ideas that would start with a single step, the beginning of a trip, and hopefully end with the discovery of something wonderful.

A journey to find love, the real stuff, the kind that shackles itself to you; that gets into your heart and makes it pump in strange ways; that's as unpredictable as a leaf navigating the wind; that stays with you day and night; that makes you do astounding things and at times the most horrific of things just to keep it; that causes you to go blind and much, much more than even that. A life altering dream that he highly suspected would have him traveling from one end of the Earth to the other just to acquire this rarest of finds if it can be located then captured at all.

And as he, on that night; a night that had yet to be fully born, at that time; a moment that he would never forget, with a level of focus that only a few has ever achieved, gathered up some stuff to put into a small knapsack, there came, out of nowhere, the sound of a pair of wings that were fluttering a million miles a second. A somewhat quiet noise that filled him with delight and immediately caused him to glance in the general direction of a window that he, himself, had looked through on many occasions. And it was here, on the outer ledge of this soiled window, a little bird stood. The same one that began to sing like it's been doing every day for years and years without missing a beat.

And the song that this bird sang was so splendid that it left the old man feeling a bit down that he had to leave but there was no other choice in the matter, or so, this is what he told himself as he moved this to there and placed that on top of this. He then took a hold of the sack that was now full and slung it over his shoulder just before he locked up the house and began a quest that he never thought, not even once, that he'd be going on, this was, of course, until that night.

And it was during this mission, which occurred around the three hundred-and twenty-three-day mark, at a moment when he was far, far away from the house that he had left, a short, thin boy, who he knew not, approached him right out of the blue. A youngster who delivered a handwritten communication that the old man never expected to receive.

And on this note was a simple request, that being, would you care for a nice cool drink of water, of which, as odd as it was, he actually could. A question that remained in his mind as he looked at the boy, who was standing next to him, then asked--

"How did you find me?"

The nipper, who was about fourteen years of age, or so, the man estimated, politely replied--

"By accident really, but not quite."

The man, who was puzzled by what he had heard, further implored--

"Oh? And what do you mean by that?"

The boy then answered--

"I mean, sir, that I was told by one of the locals that you might be out this way so I came to see if this was true but no matter how hard I tried, and I did try hard, I couldn't find you. This was until the moment that I caught sight of this bird, who, by the way, is incredibly beautiful, and decided to follow it for I had never seen its like before. And as I watched it flying high above my head I came out of the woods and into this clearing where I saw it circling over you."

The man, now looking up, continued with--

"Ah, is that right. How interesting. But it's not there anymore as you can clearly see for yourself which has me sort of wondering where it might have taken off to and also more importantly where in the world did you get the note?"

The boy, after hearing this, stared at the piece of paper that the message was written on, the same piece of paper that was now in the man's hand, then added--

"From the man that I work for."

The old man, slightly agitated with the boy's vague comment, pressed ahead with--

"Oh? And who is this man that you're referring to? Do you know his name?"

The boy, who had his hands in his pockets, said--

"Why, yes sir I do, and his name is Mel. He's the guy that runs the post-office. Do you know him?"

The old man thought a moment then responded--

"No, not at all. Not that I'm aware of anyhow. And are you sure that he sent the note?"

The boy, with an intense look in his eyes, said--

"Yes sir. He sent it alright. Heck, he's the only one that could've. So yeah, he definitely sent it, but before he did, he received it first."

The old man, sweating profusely, inquired--

"Oh? And do you know who sent it to him? At least you should know that much."

The boy then countered--

"And that's totally understandable that you might think that but I'm sorry to say that my answer is no. I do believe, however, that Mel would have an answer to your question, and, if you'd like, I can go ask him right now if'n you want me to."

The old man retorted--

"But I don't! And I don't because I, like you, also have a fine pair of legs that can take me wherever I wish to go and besides that I'm not part of the lazy crowd--"

Which is something that the man immediately proved when he, following the boy, slowly began to walk.

And the answer that he got from Mel was that the message had come from another town to the north and that's all that he really knew. However, Mel was positive that the post-office, that was located there, would know a lot more about this note, so the man, after hearing this, packed up some food and water and went to that town expecting to get a direct answer to his question, but instead of getting one of those, he was informed, yet again, that the answer he seeks is still farther north.

And so, that's where the old man went, and again, he was instructed to go north and north he continued to walk from town to town as he was told to do by each and every postmaster that he came into contact with. This, nonetheless, instantly came to an end, when he, to his utter amazement, found himself standing in front of a place that he knew rather well.

A house, his house, that now looked as empty as he felt. And on one of the window ledges of the three that belonged to his home, this being, the first ledge that he caught sight of when he initially arrived, there was an inch of dust that hadn't been disturbed for many sunrises and sunsets. And next to this ledge, pinned on a wall, was a note that said: to the owner of this residence, from a woman in need, who lives at 2020 Oak Street, I would like to inform you that I have something of great value that I've been wanting to give to you for who knows how long. It's a special kind of something that only you can claim, that is, if you choose to come see me when you get back. And if, indeed, you decide to do this, then please don't be taking your time, for time is growing short and getting shorter all the time, which was a slice of wisdom that the old man instinctively knew, and that's why, without hesitation, and with a quickness in his step, he went straight to the address that was given and rapped on the door then waited for someone to answer and sure enough someone did. And the person that did this very thing was a woman in her early eighties who, with the door slightly open, said the following to him and that was--

"Did you get lost or something? Because you should've been here over an hour ago. But I guess the skunk, that needs to be carted away, who, to my displeasure, is the same hooligan that's been terrorizing my chickens for the last four nights, isn't in a hurry either. And you can find this critter in a pile of loose hay that I keep in the barn, which has me a tad curious how you, being dressed the way that you are, plan to remove it from that there place without any protection or a cage to put it in. I mean, it just seems silly to me that they would send you over here with a pipe wrench when you really needed a blowtorch."

The old man then said--

"And this, who I assume is the lady of the house, is an observation that I completely agree with, but, then again, I wasn't directed to come here and get rid of mister stinky pants for you. In other words, I'm not the person that you're looking for."

She countered--

"Which is a dismal thing to hear, for in my judgment you certainly appear to be quite capable of getting rid of that villain despite your being under prepared to do the job. And so then, why have you come if not to handle my somewhat smelly issue and please, if you don't mind, be as direct as possible because I don't want to be holding this screen door forever. Besides, if you don't get right to the point, then I just might fall asleep while standing up, or even worse, forget what I'm doing like the way that I often forget how to tie my shoes. And do you forget that too?"

The old man responded--

"Forget what? How to tie my shoes? No, not yet anyway, and yes, by all means, I'll get right down to business, which brings me to my question, and that is, are you the one who left a message by a certain window at a particular house that's taking up space in your fine little town?"

She replied--

"Well, to be completely honest with you, I can't say for sure who might have did the thing that you said they've done but I can tell you that I, a rather long time ago, did leave a note by a particular window at a certain house but never did get a reply to it and that, needless to say, caused my heart to shatter like an icicle slammed against a block of concrete. A note that I had to post up a second time that was far more different than the first. And I had to do this because the first one, that just up and vanished, was taken away, or so according to a few friends of mine, by an angel that decided, for whatever reason, to personally hand deliver it to the one that it was intended for. In any case, I didn't believe what they said. It's just that, the idea of that actually happening sounded a bit outlandish to me and still does to say the least."

The old man then said--

"And for good reason to, after all, I suspect them angels have more important things to take care of then to do something like that, not that, helping you out wouldn't be important mind you, but still, there are other things to deal with, which now brings another question to my mind, that being, when you ultimately decided to post, then re-post, did you, at that time, know the occupant that was living there? I assume that you did."

She responded--

"And that would be a good guess on your part, but, the truth is, I sort of didn't, and I sort of did. And I say, sort of didn't, because he and I never actually did anything together. And I say, sort of did, because when I was at work, on my lunch break, I used to watch him from a set of stairs. And this I would do five days a week without exception. And you know what else, mister whoever you are, the more that I went about observing him in secret, the more that I came to adore him. And the more that happened, the more I realized that we were meant for each other which is why, with the feeling of urgency in the most desperate sense of the word, I decided to reach out to him in some meaningful way but I had no clue how best to do that. This was before I came up with the idea that I would give him a gift. A gift that he would love as much as I had come to love him. And that's when I began to make a list of the things that I had, or could get a hold of, that he might like. A present that wouldn't reveal myself to him for at that time I was a very shy person who didn't have the guts to look him directly into the eyes.

"And it was within this small but adequate list that I found the perfect one which turned out to be my bird. And it had to be her because she, my most favorite possession who wasn't really a possession at all, had the ability to sing an assortment of ballads that can't be matched by any in the land. A magnificent endowment that I gave to him each and every day for months upon weeks and weeks upon months until, on this one rainy afternoon, I sent my bird not for I had built up enough courage to go in her stead and so I did. And as I walked along, I was so excited, so happy, that finally I was going to meet him face to face. That maybe, if everything went well, I could have a life that I had longed for, and still do, but it was all an illusion. A dream that vanished just like him, although, I obviously didn't know this to be true when I first arrived at his place and found him gone."

"No, this was a revelation that slowly dawned on me over time as I sat on those steps day after day looking for him like a hawk trying to spot its quarry. And each time, that I looked, I prayed that I would see this man who had captured my heart without a single word but never did I see him again. A thing that eventually pushed me, after I had been retired for a while, to write and post that note that you might have bumped into which now has me curious as to why you even care about a note that was placed at a house that's been vacant for so long. Why?"

And that's when the old man, who understood her pain, replied--

"Because, my dear lady, I do, and that's all there is to say about that. And when it comes to me, and who I am, I'd prefer not to let that cat out of the bag at this moment, but soon, real soon, I'll tell you who I am and much more. However, with that said, I have a simple request for you, which is, do you have a nice cool drink of water that I can have. You see, I've been walking for many miles in the heat of the day and now I find myself rather parched. So, by any chance, can you help me out here?"

She then smiled that awesome smile and said--

"And that I can. And sure, you can have some of my fine wine. And it's some of the most refreshing stuff that can be found anywhere I've been told. But you have to do something for me first."

And the man said--

"Oh, and that would be?"

And she replied, as she leaned in closer to me--

"Make me a promise. Promise me that you'll sit with me on the porch until animal control gets here. The truth is, I've been a tad shaky as of late and I could use some company. So, will you? Will you promise?"

"I then said, with all sincerity--

"Of course. Of course I will, and I do. And speaking of the porch, do you like to sit on it at night and gaze up at the stars."

"And she said--

"Who doesn't. It's one of my most favorite things to do. Do you plan to stay long? I mean, in town?"

"I responded--

"Why yes. Yes I do. In fact, I was just thinking that maybe, if you didn't mind much, we could get to know each other a lot better. That perhaps, if at all possible, I could take ownership of that house, the one that you spoke of, and give it a respectable cleaning after doing so. And even, while I'm at it, I could fix it up some so that it doesn't look as run down as I sometimes feel. And what do you think? Is that a good idea? Could you use a new neighbor? A new comrade that would come strolling by from time to time to make sure that you're doing okay? You know, kind of keep each other entertained when a storm comes calling and a cold wind begins to blow. A frigid wind at that. One that can bring a chill to your bones in a matter of seconds as I'm sure that you're already aware of. So, could you? Could you use something like that?"

And she, Elisabeth Rose Tyler, with a kindness in her voice that even now, a whole year later, still touches my heart said--

"Why, sure I could. For loneliness, as you may or may not know, hasn't been much of a companion and nor will it ever be I suppose. And moreover, I'd like to add, if my bird, who often watched me weep over the disappearance of Mr. David Gray Thomson, was still around, then I, with delight, would gladly send her to you every now and again."

"Anyhow, my bird, like the man whose name that I've written in my diary more times than I can count, will not be forgotten either and nor will the songs that she once sang to a man who now only occasionally frolics in my dreams--"

Of which Alivia, I told her, while we sat together, that I was very sorry about everything that she had gone through. I then told her that I was David, the man that she had been waiting for, but she didn't believe me. She said I was too old to be David. That my eyes didn't match his. That I shouldn't play around like that. That it wasn't a nice thing to do. And that I should apologize for being so unkind and that's what I did. And I kept doing it over and over again because I felt so responsible, so cruel, so selfish, even though I didn't know that she cared as much as she did.

A feeling that haunted me as we listened to the birds in the trees, and the wind fooling around with the chimes, and the chickens clucking about, and the purring of her kitten. This, and much more, we listened to. That was until she sat back in her chair, closed her lovely eyes, then fell silent. And with her passing, a piece of my heart went with her, and that, I'm sad to say, was that.

But not for us. For we still need to come up with a good beginning to a love story that desperately needs one. A beginning, Alivia, that as of now, I'm completely lost as to what that should be.

O Fim