Читать книгу Wherever the Wind Blows Me... - Laurie Jr. Murphy - Страница 7

The weather has turned cold. Florida cold. I haven’t walked lately, so I suppose I have missed the arrival of Julie and The Bird. I stay to myself, mind my own business, go to work, come home, go to bed, and start all over again. I spend time with my husband and children. I spend time with my grandchildren. There’s no more room for anyone else. So, that’s that.

It’s dark when I get home from work. Not late, really, but dark. Winter. But this one night, my little corner of the circle is aglow in lights. Christmas lights! I think. The little house has Christmas lights! But no! Instead of Christmas lights, they have hung a peace sign that nearly covers the entire front wall of the little house, shining bright white, house dressing for the weary, reminders for lost souls, symbols of what we all could be, if only we all tried just a little harder.

My car idles in the street, facing the sign. I sit there watching time standing still, then flying backwards, reminding me of everything I had ever believed in: The West Village, my hippie dreams of crafting silver jewelry, writing poetry, and living in a loft. But that was when I was still young enough to be naïve and hopeful, nostalgic for another time and place.

And that is how Julie and I meet. The man, Rod, stands at his front door waving, cleaned up, majestic under the lights of his peace sign. He looks different. Better. Cleaner. His entire demeanor seems oddly transformed, confident, understanding, patient. Perhaps I have misjudged him. Or perhaps not. His cleanliness should not be my barometer to his character.

His wife walks over to my car, without hesitation, unwavering, on a path not yet revealed. She looks angelic, pure, sweet. Quiet confidence and grace follow her, daring to not fall behind, obedient in their loyalty. In that one instant I believe her to be revered, the keeper of the highest secrets.

I feel drawn to her. Before my thoughts can be censored, before my mind has enough sense to curb my words, this is what comes to me. This is what I hear myself saying inside my head. Thank God, you’re finally here.