Passions in Prose |
Epiphany - Part I |
Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
Carrie sat on the old swing on the front porch of the house she grew up in. Coming home to be with her mother for the last three weeks of her life and then for her mother’s funeral had been particularly hard for her, as she now had no family left. Her twin brother Carl died 15 years ago from cancer; her father two years ago from a heart attack and now, her mother’s passing from a stroke left her completely alone. She had never married choosing instead to devote her life to teaching. Now, at 55, she fully realized the impact that being alone would have on her. No more family dinners, no more gifts to buy for holidays and birthdays but most of all, no connection to her past. The house sold within two days of being on the market, but she asked the buyers if she could remain for the summer to collect her family heirlooms. She held two estate sales and finally after three weeks, had put the house in order. Today, she had finished and sat one more time on the porch, a box of photos and an old leather bag on the floor at her feet. Carl had been particularly hard on his toys otherwise she would have saved them; seems like they would be antiques by now! But she had her memories and her photos. Now, sitting here on the swing, she remembered that day forty-eight years ago, when she and Carl were seven-year-old twin terrors. She smiled. It was a late summer Saturday. Mother was lying down in her room, recuperating from their last escapade. Carl thought it would be funny to see what the cat would do if it were placed in the tank with the fish. “A scientific experiment!” he proclaimed. “Will the cat overcome her fear of water because of her desire to catch and eat the fish?” He spent half an hour holding the old tabby cat in front of the tank, teasing her with glimpses of the multicolored treats. I followed Carl around like a puppy instead of a sister born three minutes before him. I should have tried to calm his waywardness, but I enjoyed the laughter we shared more than I feared reprisal. Our parents, usually tired from working, would reprimand us by sending us to our rooms….rooms filled with games and a TV. Punishment was never more than enforced playtime. So when Carl decided to create his scientific experiment, I stood right by his side; holding a towel for the soon to be wet cat. Just as he lowered her into the fishtank, our mother walked into the room and howled louder than the cat was! “Carl!” she screamed (at a pitch that could call dogs from the next county). Carl, startled, dropped the cat! The cat, outraged, scrambled from the tank with a gold fish in her mouth as she ran from the room and down the basement stairs! Mother just pointed to the front door – a sign that she was too angry to speak and we were banished for the afternoon. In the country, a child had the freedom of roaming so we took off down the road towards the end of our property. Tree lined gravel road. We reached the edge of our acreage and decided to hide behind our favorite maple tree. From here we could lie in wait for cars and trucks to go by…I knew Carl would want to pelt them with mud balls, whereas I was content to just jump up and try to scare the drivers. We once caused a truck to swerve, go into the ditch and loose a load of chickens. The chickens when flying, we ran off home and nearly wet our pants at the sound of the driver screaming for his birds. Today, we found a bundle of rags under our favorite tree. Carl ran up to kick at them, then as I stepped beside him, we saw the bundle move. It was a person! One rag slipped and we saw the face of the oldest person in the world. She looked dead to us! Carl put his finger to his lips to keep me from crying out…he knew I was a baby about scary things. He gently lifted the rag covering half the person’s face and we saw it was an old woman…or had been. The deep brown skin was crackled with crevices deep enough to stand up a dime in one. As we crouched near the body, suddenly one eyelid opened! We jumped back quickly, Carl fell on his butt and I nearly wet my pants! “What you youngin’s doin’?” the old woman asked. “N..n…nothing. We thought you were dead!” Said Carl as he stood up. I stayed on the ground, afraid to move. “Hep me up!” she shouted as she reached a branch-thin hand out and took Carl’s arm. He was left with little choice but to help the old lady sit higher with her back against the trunk of the tree. “What’s yer names? Are you stupid?” she asked. “Of course not!” Carl protested. “We’re geniuses actually, at least that’s what our teacher says. We’ve been moved to a progressive class where we learn things only teenagers learn and…” “Shush!” the old lady shouted. “Yer given me a headache.” As if to prove her point, she rubbed her bony fingers across her forehead. “My name is Carl and this is my sister, my twin sister Carrie.” I looked timidly at the woman as she gazed in my direction. I wasn’t sure she could actually see me, as her eyes seemed clouded over with some film. I nodded my head just to be polite. “My name is Epiphany…..Epiphany Jones.” The old woman said with dignity. Carl sputtered then looked sheepishly at the woman as she turned a disapproving eye towards him. “Are you mocking my blessed name?” “Well, you have to admit, it’s a strange name.” Carl replied logically. “No stranger than yours! How’d you come by that name of yours?” Epiphany asked. “My grandfather’s name was William Carl, I was named after him. My grandma’s name was Caroline and that’s who Carrie’s named after.” Epiphany turned towards me and I faced her with trepidation. There was something about her that made me uncomfortable. Like she could see through me. “I named one of my baby girls Carrie. She died when she was two.” The filmy brown eyes began to tear as the old woman seemed lost in her memory. “I’m so sorry.” I heard myself say. “Do you have any other children?” “I had eight babies in all. Four died before they were five and the other four were killed one night in a horrible fire.” “How terrible!” I moved closer to the woman, my fear replaced by an enormous sadness. “The Lord knows what He’s doin’, she said. “He needed my sweet angels in heaven I guess.” “What are you doing here?” Carl asked bluntly, for as an eight year old boy, he had no soft feelings. “Just movin’ around. Keepin’ a promise.” Epiphany said. “What promise?” “Boy you sure do ask a lot of questions!” “How else will I ever know anything if I don’t ask?” Carl replied. Epiphany smiled and shook her head. She reached into a leather pouch and drew out a small brown leather book. The edges were frayed and worn, it looked like it had been handled a lot. “Do you read?” she asked us, but directed her look towards me. “Of course we do.” Carl replied. He now started kicking at the exposed roots of the maple tree, bored with the woman. Carl’s attention span was just a bit shorter than mine was but for some reason, this old wrinkled woman held my attention. “I been writing in this book for nearly 80 years! I take it out every day and read some of the things that happened to me in my life. Makes me stop and be grateful for what I’ve got.” I looked at her. She looked like she had nothing! Her clothes, rags at best, and matted brown and white hair didn’t seem to me to be worth much. “Would you like me to read you something?” she asked. “I think we should go, Carrie.” Carl said as he made a movement to walk off. “I’d like to hear it, please.” I told her with a quick glance at Carl. He looked at me with disgust, the usual look he gave me when I slipped out from under his control, and walked off. As soon as he was out of earshot, Epiphany opened her journal and began to read. “Today, mama was taken from us. I cried. And Sammy cried. Gran just sat in her chair by the fire til the last of mama’s screams died down. I was six years old and just stood there with my fingers in my mouth. Mr. Jim had come in and said mama was bein’ sold to a fancy lady in New Orleans and mama should get her Sunday dress on. Well, mama started screaming and crying and never did get her dress, ‘cause Mr. Jim had to drag her out to the wagon and tie her in the back so she would stay. My brother Sammy was only 8 and couldn’t do much good at getting Mr. Jim to let our mama go. And the rest of my brothers was all out in the field workin’. So we just stood there, listening to her screaming our names as Mr. Jim drove off with her. I never saw her again. I heard later that she died, but though me and Sammy looked for her grave, we could never find it.” “I don’t understand.” I began. “Is this a story you wrote? It’s very sad.” “Girl!” Epiphany said. “I lived this story! This is about a time when men owned other men just because the color of their skin was dark. Surely you’ve heard of slavery?” “Of course, I read about it in the history books. How could you know about it? Slavery was ended by President Lincoln!” “Mr. Lincoln wasn’t even President when my mama was sold off.” “How old are you?” “What year is this?” Epiphany asked. “1952.” Then I must be ‘bout a hundred. Sammy said I was born when he was two and he was born in 1850.” “Well that can’t be!” I protested. “That would make you a hundred years old.” “Yep, guess it would.” She replied with pride. “But you can’t be that old!” “Why not child?” “Because I’ve never known anyone that old. How could you live so long….like this?” I pointed to her rags, her leather bag and the worn shoes on her feet. “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, missy! I read that somewhere….I lived this long ‘cause God had a plan for me. When it’s His plan to take me, I’ll go. But for now, I’m livin’ …just livin’!” I stared at her face. I’d known some old people, all my grandparents had died before I was born, but we have an old man in our church that was 76. And to think that this woman was twenty-five years older than he is amazed me. That she claimed to have been a slave, I found unbelievable. She must have seen that in my face for she reached out with her bony fingers and touched my hand. Her skin was warm and rough, but her touch was gentle. “Sometimes you just have to take a person on faith, dear.” She said. “Don’t make judgments about them until you know them.” “But how do you live? Do you have a home?” “This earth is my home. I walk til I’m tired. Rest a bit,then more on. God takes care of me. He gives me good folks to take me in when the weather is bad and he makes sure I got enough to eat.” “But what do you do?” I asked. Confused at the logic of just existing, as my life was a maelstrom of doing, going, being. Epiphany smiled. It was a glowing smile that seemed to reflect out of her eyes and warmed my heart. “Child, we were put on this earth to take care of each other. To live in peace with all God’s creations. I’ve been in every one of these 48 states, met some wonderful people and some nasty ones too. I’ve experienced life as few people have, and wrote about it here in my diaries. I don’t pay them income taxes! Don’t work except if I have to earn my bread or bed. I meet people. Teach them about God and teach them not to hate. My whole life has been one long schoolroom!” “Don’t you get tired or lonely?” I asked innocently. “Sure! I get tired…I was tired today so I found this nice shade tree and lay me down for a nap. And if I was lonely, God would provide me with a nice, sweet young girl to talk to for a summer afternoon.” I smiled at her reasoning that God provided me to keep her company today. I was only eight and so far had found that adults ignored me, shushed me and kept me in my room to keep from answering the many questions I always seemed to have. “Now, I’ve got a big favor to ask you Carrie.” “Oh, anything!” I replied quickly. “Will you hold onto my bag for me, I got to walk into town and find a church and my diaries are getting heavier and heavier each year.” “I will. Would you like to come to my house and we can ask my mother to drive you to town?” “No dear. Though you’re kind to offer, the Lord wants me to come to his house on my own two feet. So I better get moving if I want to get there by tomorrow morning!” She creaked as she rose and handed me a leather satchel that must have weighed 30 pounds. How she managed to walk around and carry this was beyond me. I hefted the bag onto my shoulder and helped Epiphany back onto the road. We walked a bit together, she singing a hymn I’d never heard and me quiet and thoughtful. When we parted, she hugged me quickly. “Take care of my life.” She said as she pointed to the bags. “I would be most grateful if you could drop them off for me tomorrow at the Baptist church in town.” “We don’t go to church there,” I replied. “But I’ll ask my dad to stop on our way to our church. I promise.” “Lord love you child. I may not see you so just leave the bag by the steps, I’ll pick it up when I leave.” Suddenly I was overcome with a great sadness. I’d only known her for a couple of hours, but now, saying goodbye to her was worse than saying goodbye to my parents when I went to band camp! “I am so glad I met you Epiphany. I hope I can see you again sometime!” “I doubt you will. God has never put me in the same person’s path twice. My life is full of hellos and good-byes. But I’ll remember you. I hope you will think about old Epiphany once in a while and remember what I said.” I nodded, tears now running down my cheeks. With a quick hug, she slowly walked east towards town, while I walked west to my house. |
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© Copyright 2000 Poet deVine - All Rights Reserved | |||
WhtDove Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-22
Posts 9245Illinois |
Wow Sharon! Entrancing I'm moving on to the next one! This so reminds me of angels, how they enter and exit one's life! <*\\\>< There's only two ways you can go... One way you can save your riches, And the other will save your soul. Rich Mullins |
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Dark Angel Member Patricius
since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095 |
Sahron, wow this one held me in, could not take my eyes of it, is there another continuing? hope so, looking forward to it!! great work Sharon as always!!1 What comes from the heart goes to the heart. Samuel Coleridge |
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LoveBug
Moderator
Member Elite
since 2000-01-08
Posts 4697 |
Wow, this was great! On to part 2! "To the world you may be one person, but to one person you may be the world" |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
WOW! I agree with everyone else that this is most excellent! I personally thought you overused your exclamation points, but that's just my opinion. Excellent story, I'll catch the next one ASAP! A writer's soul is on paper etched. In flames I shall not be consumed, but reborn. -- Abrahm Simons |
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Nan
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-20
Posts 21191Cape Cod Massachusetts USA |
Good story... Onward to part II.. |
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Denise
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-08-22
Posts 22648 |
WOW!! This is excellent, Sharon!! Captivating! I enjoyed this immensely!! Denise |
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Elizabeth Santos Member Rara Avis
since 1999-11-08
Posts 9269Pennsylvania |
A wonderful, captivating tale Can't wait for part2 Liz |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Geez, I really enjoy going through the back pages...look at this gem... on to Part II. Karilea If I whisper, will you listen?... I would rather be silent and write, then speak loudly and be bound. KRJ |
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