Tuesday, November 20, 2012

When Time Flies and Memories Linger - A Story of Thanksgiving

In honor of Thanksgiving, I am taking a break from the story I've been posting, and I am posting this story. Don't worry - I'll get back to the other one soon. Happy Thanksgiving!



For my wonderful big brother...

High in the branches of the ancient oak tree, Katy peered eagerly into the distance. Her brother could arrive any day, any hour, any second now. She imagined him in his seaman's attire, taking long strides down the dusty road towards home. His bag was thrown over his shoulder, and he was whistling some sailor's song. Katy could almost hear the joyous notes. She glanced hopefully at the road, but only tiny dust devils swirled around in the dirt. The only sound was that of the rustling leaves and a twittering bird on a nearby limb. Katy sighed and reluctantly climbed down the tree. Oh, how she missed Ryland! They used to do everything together, before he went off to sea. She longed for the days when they used to splash in the pond, skip through the meadows, and read in the Oak tree. He encouraged her to do the hard thing and face her fears. Now she had to face them on her own. Life just wasn't the same without him. She wished children never had to grow up and leave home; but time flew faster every day, every hour, every second, until it was zooming by at an uncontrollable rate. Responsibility became a bigger burden every passing year. Now all Katy could do was thank God for the childhood years they did have and the memories that still lingered.


As Katy dragged herself up the porch steps, Skittter, Ryland's dog, sauntered over to greet her. Katy reached down to pat Skitter's brown head. The dog whimpered, looking longingly down the road. Her big, hopeful, watery puppy eyes made Katy want to cry. “I know, Skitter. I miss him too.” She scratched the dog reassuringly behind her ears. “He'll be home soon.” But what if he wasn't? What if his ship went down in a terrible storm? What if pirates had attacked and killed him? Katy pushed the thoughts aside. Ryland would come home. He said he would. Katy gave Skitter one more pat and reached for the door handle. The smell of roasting turkey and baking apple pies drifted through the windows. Dinner would be ready soon, but Ryland wasn't there to share it.

Skitter suddenly let out an excited yelp. Her ears perked up, and she darted down the road into the setting sun, where a lone figure tromped through the dust. His strides were steady and long, and he wore a seaman's attire. A lighthearted whistle pierced the silent air. He stopped and stooped down to pet the tiny brown dog scampering to meet him. She jumped at his legs and her tail trembled with excitement. Katy's heart jumped to her throat, and she let out a scream. “Ryland!” She flew down the road, her hair blowing wildly behind her and her skirt threatening to trip her. Ryland looked up, his face streaked with the slobbery mud trails Skitter's tongue had left behind. He grinned when he met his sister's eyes and opened wide his arms to accept her into an embrace. Katy stumbled into his arms, laughing and crying. Behind her, she could hear the slam of the front door and cries of, “Ryland's home!” Soon Mama was flying out the door, tears streaming down her face and her hands and apron still covered in flour. The rest of the family tumbled out the door after her.

Shortly thereafter Katy's family gathered around the goodies at the dinner table. They held hands, bowed their heads, and Papa lifted up a prayer of thanksgiving. The meal talk mainly consisted of Ryland's tales of the sea. He no longer talked like a boy, but his words reflected a man of growing wisdom. Katy was somewhat sobered by the change, for she had missed the boy. Still, this new man inspired her to also grow and change. Life would never be same again; but Katy now knew that the change was for the better. Silently, Katy decided to embrace the change. She lifted up her own prayer of thanksgiving for the memories she had, the future ones still to be made, and the brother who created them.

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