The Faded Passport

The Faded Passport

Walking into her Grandmother's bedroom, she smelled the scent that she could not remember ever having not known. A scent that would forever stay in her memories, reminding her of the most kindhearted and loving woman she ever knew; her Grandmother, but also her best friend. The one person she could talk to about anything, who would listen, never judging. The person who was always there with open arms when she needed to cry and warm brownies that would make even the worst moments, disappear.

The girl sat for a minute on the edge of her Grandmother's bed, absorbing the fact that never again would she have those loving arms to turn to. Her Grandmother was dead. They had buried her, as she had wanted, at dawn. The time of day, when you could still see the moon in the western sky, and the colours of dawn painted the east. That had been her Grandmother's favorite time of the day.

She remembered asking once, when she was little, why that was her favorite time. She could still remember her Grandmothers reply, in a soft and gentle voice, filled with tenderness. Even at such a young age, the girl could see the love shinning in her Grandmothers eyes, bringing a haze to them and a smile to her lips. She became lost in her own memories, saying, "This is the time of day I feel closest to paradise. A place where my heart will always be filled with love."

The girl had wondered who her Grandmother might be remembering, but was so entranced at the glow in her face, she did not ask. After a moment, her Grandmother had turned to her and said, "Lets go bake some brownies." The girl forgot to ask the question.

Now, years later, the girl sat in her "best friend's" room. She wondered again, with her adult heart, who was that person her Grandmother had loved so completely. Who had captured her Grandmother's heart for so many years, when the girl could never remember seeing her with any man.

Her grandmother hardly ever went anywhere. She did not have a close friend, though all that knew her, loved her. She was very generous to those that truly needed a helping hand, never asking for anything in return. As a silent, lonely tear slipped down the girl's face, she rose from the bed and opened dresser drawers, putting the contents into boxes. She went and did the same with the closet, pausing a moment to bury her face in her Grandmother's favorite sweater, before laying it aside, to ask her Mother if she could keep it. This was a job that had to be done, and knowing how upset her Mother was, she took it on herself to deal with it.

As the girl moved around the bed, stripping the covers off, her foot kicked something underneath. Bending down, she reached under the bed and pulled out a tattered, old box, with parts taped to hold it together. The girl had never seen it before, but she could see how special it must have been to her Grandmother, by how worn it was, showing how often it had been handled. Sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, she opened the box, knowing she would soon discover special memories that had ment so much to the woman she loved.

Opening the lid, the first thing she saw was a picture of a man she didn't know. His eyes drew her, for they seem to look out of the picture right at her, half a smile on his face, making his eyes twinkle. Wondering who he was, the girl also realized that this must be whom her Grandmother had loved for so long. She also wondered what had happened to him. Gently taking the picture out of the box, laying it aside, she saw a small, cylinder mailing container addressed to her grandmother.

Lifting it out she felt the weight of something inside. She opened it, tilting it so the contents would slide out. Into her hand came a small jar. It was empty, but had held something called Veggiemite. A piece of paper was sticking from the tube, and as she pulled it free, she uncurled it. It was a short note, from a man who called her Grandmother, "Baby" and said he sent the Veggiemite with all his love. Sighing the girl laid it with the picture and looked into the box again. There were half a dozen old computer diskettes and a notebook.

Lifting the notebook out, she opened it, reading the words written there, in her Grandmother's hand. Words that told how she had met this man, on the computer and how their love had grown, even though they had never met. She read words of love; so deeply felt that the girl could feel in her own heart how much her Grandmother had loved this man. There was poetry her Grandmother had written for him and letters that she had never sent, telling about her life. Of little everyday things that she had done, sharing them with this man, who had never read the words.

She read the words that told of her Grandmother's heartache at losing him, but of how she would stay loyal, all her days, to the love she had for him. Tears streaming down the girls face, as her own heart squeezed with the love she felt had been shared and lost by the two. Closing the notebook, and her eyes, she held it to her chest. She felt love and heartache for them both, knowing in that moment that somewhere, he to, had always loved and remembered her Grandmother, but had not known how to breach the distance.

When the girl opened her eyes, wiping her tears away, she looked down into the box and saw the last thing in it. An old, faded passport. Opening it she saw her Grandmother, when she was younger, as she had seen her in other photos. Glancing though the passport, she saw that it had never been marked in. It had never been stamped with any official stamp that said where her Grandmother had traveled. She knew, her Grandmother had never used it, but it was a symbol of her intent to travel to this man she had loved so much. Loved deeply, with a love that had never faded over the years, as did the faded passport.

                                       ~*~*~*~*~*~LadyBee~*~*~*~*~*~