Forty-Fifth Paradox Writing

I let your body go months ago,

and I let your soul fly to heaven like a dove,

but do you mind if I

carry a piece of your spirit around with me?

I’ll keep it in my left pocket,

and take it out when I need your backbone,

I need your smile,

need your laughter.

No one in my family has ever met Dad’s father. Jade only has one picture of him, weathered, worn, and in black and white. It’s a picture of when she first met him, in Burbank, California. They both worked at an aircraft factory in WWII. She was a Rosie the Riveter of sorts, and he was an aircraft engineer. Some sort of chronic illness, Grandma Jade would say, the government wouldn’t dare put him in combat. He flew into her life like a storm at sea, and left just as quick. But he knew her long enough to father my dad.

Jade took his last name, as a sort of token, and took to wearing a ring he gave her on her left hand. She would never say if he married her, and we never found any wedding photos. Grandma didn’t seem to mind, as she never sought out anyone else.

Grandma Jade never strayed too far from the coast. Sure, we could coax her away, closer to family, for a few years, but within a decade she’d be back by the ocean. She could get by in any coastal town, but she preferred ports, no matter what size. Jade even moved from Santa Monica, saying it was too expensive, but she just moved up the coast  town by town, until she found Coos Bay. Less crowded, she said.

She’d spend nearly day at the beach, or on the docks. We knew not to check her house when we came to visit. Instead we combed the coastline until we found her.Every so often we’d see her gaze at the waves longingly, as if she was looking for someone. Our visits usually ended up being sandy picnics, crabbing, fishing, but Jade never took us shopping at the tourist traps. “I’d never find anything worth paying for.” She would say when asked.

Over the years the family visited less and less, until Grandma got sick in the spring. At first, we took turns, dropping by each weekend to check up on her, or if we could, we’d take days off work and school. Then summer hit, and Grandma Jade still hadn’t healed. Even then she refused to go to the hospital. So I packed a suitcase and moved to her place for however long it took.

We spent nearly all our time at the beach, only going home at night. No matter how late it was, we could always find our way home. Long after everyone had turned off their lights and went to bed, her house always had one light on. I knew she had a window facing the water in her bedroom. The candle that sat on her window sill never went out. Fishermen would always joke that they could see the light from the ocean.

Then she got too sick to go outside. I did everything I could, from opening the windows to let the draft in, to bringing her seashells I found every morning at the shore. Grandma Jade would smile at me tiredly, then toy with the seashell as if she wanted something else.

It took three days of her favorite meal (salmon on mash potatoes) to get the truth out of her.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it, hon’ ” Jade glanced up at me, as young as ever.

I helped her bring another bite to her lips.”Oh, don’t say that Grandma. You’ll be fine. You’re a toughie.”

“I’m sorry hon.’” She chewed it thoughtfully, then glanced up at me, her eyes sparkling like streams in the sunlight. “You want to know a secret?”

“Sure.” Wondering what on earth Grandma Jade had left to tell.

“Set that fork down and open that drawer next to you. Yeah, that one. The picture should be underneath all those scarves.”

I pulled it and held up for both our eyes. It was the picture of Grandpa Jones, the only picture she had.

“Did you know Grandpa knew more than just planes?”

I set her plate aside. She never never had an appetite when she had a story to tell.

“He also liked ships. Big ones. Historic ones.”

“You mean, sailing?”

Jade smiled, seeming younger already. “Yeah. He loved to go and rescue men lost at sea.” She sighed wistfully.

“Like the coast guard?”

She frowned slightly, as if I was missing something important. “Sort of, except none of them ever wanted to come back. So they would join his crew.”

“Wait, he was a captain?”

Jade smiled again, proud. “One of the best. No one could ever catch him.”

“But he left you years ago, right? Soon after the war?”

She spoke softer, squeezing my hand weakly. “He came back once every ten years.”

My eyes widened farther than the portholes in her kitchen. “Wait…Grandpa Jones is–”

Jade whispered fiercely, grinning. “Davy Jones.” She thumbed my hand. “Just between us though, alright?”

I nodded. “So…you’re going to meet him.”

“Oh, I suppose I’ll go and join his crew.” She uttered softly.

“And you’re not coming back.” I swallowed.

“Just promise you’ll bury me at sea.”

“Of course, Grandma, of course.”

Each of the four buttons beeped as he punched in his code. The machine spit out a receipt with a squeak. It read Employee #5, clocked in 5:00 p.m. He stuffed the receipt in his apron, and adjusted his blue baseball cap as he headed to the sink. Squeezing some soap onto his hands he scrubbed for ten seconds, and then washed for them for ten.  Within another half a minute he stood behind the fountain machines, clipboard in hand.

“Susie! You’re doing outside trashes.” “Carl! You have drains.” “Mike! You have windows.” “Louise, you have menu houses.” In a more mumbled voice, Bill glanced down and read. “And I have everything else.”

As the proud team-leader he was, Bill headed over to the drive-thru window, drawing the envy of all his fellow employees. He put on his headset with a flourish. Bill snapped to attention when he heard a faint beep, followed by the rumble of a customer’s engine. “Welcome to Burger Princess!”

“Uh yes. I’d like the Happy Cow Shake with a Fat-Cow Burger.

“Would you like some mad potato fries with that sir?”

“Uh…sure.”

 Bill grinned. Only one more suggested sale and he would break his personal record. He already left his fellow employees in the dust weeks ago. Soon enough that manager would notice him. Soon enough he’d have his promotion to manager-in-training. No one would laugh at him then. Deftly he punched in each piece of the order, then read it off. “One Happy Cow Shake, one Fat-Cow Burger, and one Mad Potato fry. Would you like to super-size that order?”

“Sure….” The customer paused.

Sweat trickled down Bill’s jaw. “Sir?”

The customer replied, “I think I forgot my wallet. Sorry. I’ll be back later.” He drove off.

Unfortunately, the customer also forgot to come back.

When Bill went on his break, he went to the lockers with his head hanging. He towed each foot to one of the empty folding chairs, and collapsed in it. Bill ignored the looks of the other employee on break. Pulling off his baseball cap, he stared at the logo. Could Bill possibly move on? Would he have to quit this lousy job and get one that actually paid his rent? What would his father think? The very father who owned the franchise wouldn’t necessarily get angry over this…but he would be severely disappointed.

I opened my eyes to my dining room.

My laptop, painted in cherry, sat on a crisp tablecloth.

No trash had found the table yet.

_________

She stood at the crossroads of

the sunny kitchen,

the cloudy family room,

and the crimson dining room.

_____________

I backed away from my dead mother

who stared at me,

breathing with her eyes wide open.

_____________

“Oh honey.”

Her arms drooped slightly

while halos found her chocolate curls,

clinging to her head.

____________

Slowly, as all people do in dreams,

I walked.

____________

Then I ran.

____________

I wrapped my arms around her,

and clung to her silk and pearl nightgown.

______________

Her arms  wrapped around me,

warm and dry for the first time

in five months.

___________

We wept,

and our smiles shook.

Note: Yes, I know this contains references to a certain filmed owned by a mouse with big, round ears. Tell him he can consider it free advertising, like he needs any. The film you ask? Pirates of the Caribbean, of course.

All your life you did as

your pain, your family, your friends

commanded you, the sickness too.

Death regularly visited

your bedside like an unrepentant

suitor, but you turned him away

with your pistol.

He left in a longboat,

but he always turned his head back

with a smirk. He knew.

One day he’d come back for the heart you took

and kept safe inside your chest.

He knew you’d rather stab the heart than give it back;

he knew you needed it more, but he wanted the heart.

That day he sent a monster to do his bidding,

a poison that slowly killed you from the inside out,

until it oozed out your pores and swelled

the whites in your eyes.

Then you knew.

You knew it was time to evacuate your torn and battered ship,

and say your goodbyes.

I watched you face that beastie with tears in both our eyes,

but you laid there proud and courageous as you always had,

this time with a sword in hand instead of a pistol.

Others have left this world not knowing the face of Death,

because they were too afraid to turn their head,

but you did.

I still miss you, and I think I will until

I board the Flying Dutchman myself,

but know this,

know this:

I would sail past the end of the earth and end of the seas,

if I could bring you back.

I know it would be for naught,

for I know you’ve found your peace.

We waited for the phone to ring.

They waited him to fly down,

then out, then up, then upside down.

I could say his hair caught my eye,

you could say I needed a distraction.

Across a few walls, my mom fought to breathe

Across a few latitudes, he fought gravity.

He won a gold medal in a few minutes

Mom opened her eyes in a few days.

Death still hasn’t learned his lesson.

This is the second time this year,

he’s tried to fight me.

Sometimes he comes armed with a scythe

sometimes with a breathing machine,

and feeding tubes,

but I know I scared him away;

I know he’s a coward.

He never allows his opponent to live long

enough to defeat him.

Though she’s not my husband, nor even my lover,

she’s an heir to a special part of my heart.

I know she’s alive,

but the distance that separates us is an ocean,

and it takes far too long to sail home.

My suitors are not but worries, anxieties, fears

that visit me every morning and every evening.

I know the moment she comes home they’ll flee

like dust in the four winds.

I fear she faces many trials and monsters harm in women’s clothing,

and that she will come home one day,

but I want her home today.

“Hey Dad?” She bobbed on her heels, the curls in her pigtails bouncing. Her small pink hands grasped onto the corner of his armchair as she leaned towards him.

“Yes Princess? He glanced down through the narrow passage between the newspaper and his face.

“Would you pray for me?”

The newspaper sank a little, crackling slightly as it wrinkled in his hands. “What’s wrong?”

Princess beamed, her curls bouncing a second time. “Oh, nothing’s wrong Daddy.”

“Oh?”

“Mommy says that when two or more people pray, God’s with ‘em.”

“Mm-hm.” One of his eyebrows stretched to the ceiling knowingly. “And what are you praying for?”

“A pony.”

“A pony? But Princess….”

“Would you please pray for me? Pretty please?”

“Of course. But don’t get mad at me if God says to wait.”

A man with his head in the clouds (at least 3 feet closer than most) seeks a woman not afraid of heights. He’s not afraid to break world records for the sake of her love, and he enjoys installing light-bulbs, hanging curtains, and viewing life from a distance. Man works as a part time farmer, and isn’t afraid to admit needing support as he walks high above common ground.

We wish him luck.