Something Time Had Forgotten

1000 words

The aroma of fresh hay wafted through the cool morning breeze, as Billie stepped into the stables. Her boots clacked on the hard wooden floor causing an echo that rumbled through the quiet stable. The loud noise startled a kestrel that was roosting in the rafters. Billie noticed the purple band just above the bird’s left talon. Billie picked a battered feather off the floor and rubbed its smooth quill. Hot tears dribbled from her green eyes, as she watched the majestic creature take flight. She watched as the small falcon landed near the top of a walnut tree. Her heart ached because she knew this was the last bird to be saved.

Drawing in a steadying breath and wiping the tears from her cheeks, Billie trudged deeper into the stable until she saw the plaque inscribed “Gypsy”. The chestnut horse pushed her nose through the gate as Billie approached. This was going to be their last ride at the ranch. Tomorrow the bank would auction off everything.

The sun was fully visible through the trees as she led the mare past the main house. Billie usually rode over the little stone bridge and along the path to the orchard. Today, she wanted to lock into memory every tiny pebble and acorn on the ranch. She mounted Gypsy and crossed Steeple Road heading for the base of Vermillion Canyon.

After passing through the small forest Billie dug her heels into Gypsy. The mare responded by cantering across the field of wildflowers. Billie found she could no longer hold in the emotions she had skillfully hidden from her family. Drops of sorrow cascaded down her cheeks as grief stricken whimpers escaped her rosy lips. Poisonous thoughts spiraled out of control as she egged Gypsy to go faster. In compliance, the mare galloped over the Juniper strewn landscape before them.

When the tears dried up and her breathing became almost normal, Gypsy had slowed to a crawl. The steep rocky path opened to revel a picturesque setting. Mother Nature painted the tall rocky walls a myriad of colors. Reds mixed with purples and oranges created a stunning backdrop for the dark green foliage, lining the riverbed. Billie led Gypsy to a small rivulet on the far side of the canyon. Billie climbed higher and higher up the rocky ledge, until she reached the entrance to the small cave. Suddenly her heart began beating faster and her hands felt shaky.

She knew what was causing the all over jittery feeling. It was the real reason she came to this canyon today. The reason she would miss the ranch so much. The one thing she didn’t want to let go of. This had been her mother’s favorite spot in the whole world. Billie thought about her mother everyday. The way her perfume smelled like sweet peaches and her long sandy hair always curled in perfect ringlets around her face. She fingered the locket around her neck. The silver locket was a gift for Billie’s sixth birthday. It was the last present her mother ever gave her because she died, three months later.

Every once and a while, Billie would come across something at the ranch, which would trigger a new memory about her mother. Something time had forgotten. With utter amazement Billie would shake her head and smile at the wonderful gift she had been given that day.

Finally, Billie was ready to do what she had come here for. She walked into the darkness of the cave, only stopping to retrieve her flashlight from her backpack. A walkway wound down a steep incline towards the left. Billie hadn’t been here in twelve years. With the help of her best friend, Jess, they left their own memorial. It had lain in this cave undisturbed for over a decade.

A constant dripping noise echoed through the cold stone enclosure. She was about to give up because she didn’t remember walking this far; when she tripped over a jumble of stones. The dropped flashlight spun around causing a strobe effect against the cairn. She dug through the rocks until she found the metal box she was looking for.

As carefully as she could she removed the box and blew the dirt off it. Her hands were really shaking now and she felt a fluttering wave of electricity flow through her. She set the box on the ground and looked at it. Orange rust formed an “X” across its top. After several long silent minutes Billie removed its lid.

She removed several old photographs. They had been her mother’s favorites. Billie stared at a photograph of her mother and grandmother sitting on a yellow quilt, in a sea of light blue Hyacinth. At the far edge of the quilt was the infant version of Billie, trying to eat an Iris. The next picture was in black and white. It depicted her Uncle Doug showing off a brand new Zenith color television. Billie was sure that same TV still resided in the basement den. She stared at the last photograph as she blinked away new tears.

Six year old Billie was clad in the pink sundress her mother had made her. Papa was holding her up, so she could help pick the Damson Berries for grandma’s special jam. Every Labor Day the whole family came to the ranch to pick the fruit and make jam. The old farm house was overflowing with cousins to play with. Billie had finally been allowed to help pick the indigo fruit. She remembered feeling so grown up that day. Of course, she only helped for ten minutes before running off with the other kids, to play in the yew trees.

Billie looked at the other small items in the box: a homemade tissue paper posy, pink satin ribbons and a deck of worn Uno cards. She placed the pictures back in the box and replaced the lid. She slid the box into her backpack and walked through the darkness toward the light.