Letter: Remembering Days Long Ago

“Excuse me miss,” he said as he drew near.

Quite evidently, she had not been aware of his approach. She seemed lost in thought, the fingers of one aged hand gently stroking the fingers of the other hand, absently turning her wedding ring round and round as she gazed at the old house.

Startled from her reverie, she looked up and quickly a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, her dark eyes a-twinkle with laughter as if she’d been long in company with the approaching gentleman, a total stranger, the kind smile on his weathered face suggesting he’d welcome the sharing of whatever memories had brought her to this place.

“I grew up here,” she said. “This was my home. So many pleasant memories, so long ago.

“That was my bedroom. The window upstairs. The one on the right. I couldn’t reach the kitchen but what I had to go down the outside stairs. No air conditioning of course in those days so the heat from the kitchen where mother did her canning was kept separate from the house that way.

“There were five of us kids so there were a lot of mouths to feed.

“At first winter’s snow our sled was the hood of a car and all five of us would pile on while dad pulled us around with the tractor. We’d tie bread wrappers around our feet because we didn’t have boots.

“I was the littlest so I’d wear the hand-me-down dresses of my sisters.

“Some of the neighbor kids from nearby farms would join us and never did it seem the parents paid us much mind, knowing where we were.”

There was a long pause then as she looked from the old house to glance down, the fingers of one aged hand gently stroking the fingers of the other hand, as she absently turned her wedding ring round and round.

She looked up and saw him looking at her hands.

“My husband is gone now. Has been for some time.”

“Remember that time at the creek out back?”

His question startled her. She realized she’d been rambling on, gesturing with her hands, pointing here and there, happy to relive days long ago with this total stranger who seemed interested, kind and gentle.

“The creek with the little bridge,” he continued, “where we would peer through the cracks to see if we could spot salamanders?

“And do you remember the day in your little ruffled dress that, to prove you were braver than me, you slipped down the embankment, lowering yourself by grasping at bushes until you were just above the pool where the long tail of a lizard was moving back and forth with the current, it’s tail visible in the sunlight but it’s body unseen in the shadows cast by the bridge?

“And how, as you leaned as far out as you could reach with one hand to grab the thing, the bush you held with the other hand gave way and suddenly into the pool you went with a splash, and just as suddenly up you came, gasping, struggling to your feet, slipping and falling in again?

“What a sight you were!” He was laughing now.

“And why didn’t you rescue me?” she questioned him in mock disgust. “No! You just lay there on the bridge above me, rolling around in laughter!”

Like they were both laughing now, tears of laughter.

He reached out then and took her hands in his, and with his fingers he gently turned round and round her wedding ring.

“My wife is gone too,” he whispered. “So long ago it seems.” More tears now, but not of laughter.

“I thought of you over those years.”

“You were that little boy visiting that day,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Yes, I was.”