The Leaves of Departure, Page 2
Tony Acree
side, but they didn't mind. It was enough for them.
Anna and Bryan had a little boy and they would bring him around from time to time. They didn't mind baby-sitting for them. The old man always spoiled young Christopher something terrible. The boy even seemed to really look forward to the visits. Even when Christopher was sometimes quite a handful, Kate would just say folks in their seventies had to get exercise somehow.
He felt a tear make its way down the long creases of his face as he thought of his wife's passing in October of the year before. She had complained of shortness of breath and then fainted. He would never forget the frantic ambulance ride to the hospital. She never regained consciousness and passed away early the next morning. He had been so angry with her that he hardly said a word to anyone.
In the days leading up to her burial, his anger and hurt grew. But during the memorial service he had come to realize his anger was not at his wife but at God for taking her away from him. Yet he also knew his wife would know what he had felt. After leaving the gravesite following the burial, he knew he would never be able to come there again, to face her. He hadn't deserved a woman like her that had stood by him his whole life. Sitting there in his rocking chair, his shame washed over him like a river flood threatening to drown him in grief. His hands began to tremble and to shake uncontrollably.
He felt a touch on his hand and opened his eyes. He had not heard his daughter move to kneel before him. She took both of his hands in hers and he could feel her hands were trembling as well. After a moment, he looked up and into her eyes. As he did so, he didn't see anger or condemnation, but something else all together.
"Daddy, momma forgives you. Lord knows that if anyone had a key to your soul and how you really felt, it was momma."
She squeezed his hands now, almost as hard as she had the arms of her chair moments before. He also noticed she had called him Daddy. She hadn't done that since she was a little girl. As she grew older it was always Father, formal and distant.
"She would know you didn't mean it. She loves you, Daddy. Come with me and tell her how you feel."
It was awhile before he trusted himself to respond. He nodded his head slowly. "All right Anna. I'll go."
That was all he could manage to say, so overcome with emotion that he did not trust himself to speak a word more. Anna leaned forward and embraced him, pulling him close with a hug that seemed to melt away the chill between them.
"Thank you, Daddy," she whispered.
He reached up and gently wiped away a tear that fell down her cheek. With a crooked smile, she reached out and did the same for him. They both shared an embarrassed laugh.
She took his hand, rising to her feet while he pushed himself out of the rocking chair. As they turned to leave, he stopped for a moment and opened a drawer in a small oaken desk next to his chair. From the drawer he took out a well-worn bible. He ran his hand across the textured black cover. The formerly red tasseled bookmark that was now faded to a lighter shade of pink still marked the passages he and his wife had repeated during their wedding ceremony.
Katherine had given him the bible as a birthday present shortly after they met. Opening the bible to the inner cover, he read again the words she had inscribed. "Forever seems such a small time with God and you to guide me. Love Kate."
Closing his eyes for a brief moment more and holding the bible to his chest, he realized he would have to ask more than his wife's forgiveness. Would God forgive him as well?
He put his arm around his daughter as they made their way out of the tiny cabin and to her car. Her arm encircled his waist, gripping him tightly, not wanting to lose the contact they had established. For more years than he cared to count, there had been a gulf between them, leaving them almost strangers. Now, he could feel that gap closing.
She opened the door for him and he folded himself into her car. As she shut the door and walked around to her side, he looked out the window and a long sigh escaped his lips. The pile of leaves he was raking before her arrival spread again throughout the yard in the cool October breeze. He watched each leaf dance like an acrobat on the wind's spiral, falling and rising in an intricate dance before falling again to the earth.
Just the other night he awoke from a dream with the smell of crumpled dry leaves heavy in the air. He had a scratchy feeling in his back so real that he rolled over looking for the leaves that he knew had to be there. But they weren't. It had felt so real. As the car moved down the driveway and away from his cabin, he closed his eyes and felt his grief floating away with the leaves on the winds behind him, spiraling and dancing above the ground.
###
About the author:
Tony Acree, author of The Hand of God, from Otherworld Publications, coming November 2012.
Tony Acree was born in La Grange, Kentucky in January 1963. His short story fiction has appeared in Kentucky Monthly Magazine. He has written articles about his time as a stay at home dad for a women's magazine as well as sports and information articles. His work has also appeared in The Cumberland, the state wide newspaper outlet of the Sierra Club. He is a member of The Green River Writers and the Bluegrass Writers Edge, a creative writers group in Goshen, Kentucky, where he lives with his wife and twin daughters.
Tonyacree.com
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Anna and Bryan had a little boy and they would bring him around from time to time. They didn't mind baby-sitting for them. The old man always spoiled young Christopher something terrible. The boy even seemed to really look forward to the visits. Even when Christopher was sometimes quite a handful, Kate would just say folks in their seventies had to get exercise somehow.
He felt a tear make its way down the long creases of his face as he thought of his wife's passing in October of the year before. She had complained of shortness of breath and then fainted. He would never forget the frantic ambulance ride to the hospital. She never regained consciousness and passed away early the next morning. He had been so angry with her that he hardly said a word to anyone.
In the days leading up to her burial, his anger and hurt grew. But during the memorial service he had come to realize his anger was not at his wife but at God for taking her away from him. Yet he also knew his wife would know what he had felt. After leaving the gravesite following the burial, he knew he would never be able to come there again, to face her. He hadn't deserved a woman like her that had stood by him his whole life. Sitting there in his rocking chair, his shame washed over him like a river flood threatening to drown him in grief. His hands began to tremble and to shake uncontrollably.
He felt a touch on his hand and opened his eyes. He had not heard his daughter move to kneel before him. She took both of his hands in hers and he could feel her hands were trembling as well. After a moment, he looked up and into her eyes. As he did so, he didn't see anger or condemnation, but something else all together.
"Daddy, momma forgives you. Lord knows that if anyone had a key to your soul and how you really felt, it was momma."
She squeezed his hands now, almost as hard as she had the arms of her chair moments before. He also noticed she had called him Daddy. She hadn't done that since she was a little girl. As she grew older it was always Father, formal and distant.
"She would know you didn't mean it. She loves you, Daddy. Come with me and tell her how you feel."
It was awhile before he trusted himself to respond. He nodded his head slowly. "All right Anna. I'll go."
That was all he could manage to say, so overcome with emotion that he did not trust himself to speak a word more. Anna leaned forward and embraced him, pulling him close with a hug that seemed to melt away the chill between them.
"Thank you, Daddy," she whispered.
He reached up and gently wiped away a tear that fell down her cheek. With a crooked smile, she reached out and did the same for him. They both shared an embarrassed laugh.
She took his hand, rising to her feet while he pushed himself out of the rocking chair. As they turned to leave, he stopped for a moment and opened a drawer in a small oaken desk next to his chair. From the drawer he took out a well-worn bible. He ran his hand across the textured black cover. The formerly red tasseled bookmark that was now faded to a lighter shade of pink still marked the passages he and his wife had repeated during their wedding ceremony.
Katherine had given him the bible as a birthday present shortly after they met. Opening the bible to the inner cover, he read again the words she had inscribed. "Forever seems such a small time with God and you to guide me. Love Kate."
Closing his eyes for a brief moment more and holding the bible to his chest, he realized he would have to ask more than his wife's forgiveness. Would God forgive him as well?
He put his arm around his daughter as they made their way out of the tiny cabin and to her car. Her arm encircled his waist, gripping him tightly, not wanting to lose the contact they had established. For more years than he cared to count, there had been a gulf between them, leaving them almost strangers. Now, he could feel that gap closing.
She opened the door for him and he folded himself into her car. As she shut the door and walked around to her side, he looked out the window and a long sigh escaped his lips. The pile of leaves he was raking before her arrival spread again throughout the yard in the cool October breeze. He watched each leaf dance like an acrobat on the wind's spiral, falling and rising in an intricate dance before falling again to the earth.
Just the other night he awoke from a dream with the smell of crumpled dry leaves heavy in the air. He had a scratchy feeling in his back so real that he rolled over looking for the leaves that he knew had to be there. But they weren't. It had felt so real. As the car moved down the driveway and away from his cabin, he closed his eyes and felt his grief floating away with the leaves on the winds behind him, spiraling and dancing above the ground.
###
About the author:
Tony Acree, author of The Hand of God, from Otherworld Publications, coming November 2012.
Tony Acree was born in La Grange, Kentucky in January 1963. His short story fiction has appeared in Kentucky Monthly Magazine. He has written articles about his time as a stay at home dad for a women's magazine as well as sports and information articles. His work has also appeared in The Cumberland, the state wide newspaper outlet of the Sierra Club. He is a member of The Green River Writers and the Bluegrass Writers Edge, a creative writers group in Goshen, Kentucky, where he lives with his wife and twin daughters.
Tonyacree.com
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