An early story

THE WINDOW

I

 was waking, it was dark, misty like, greyish clouds, you  know?  I was in that state between sleep and waking, when something started to appear, a window? Yes, definitely a window, it became more visible and I moved closer.  It was misted or clouded, I reached out and touched it, then rubbed on the single pane before me.   The mist readily wiped away and I looked through and out onto a sight I could hardly believe!

There was a rocky cliff falling away to the water some thirty or forty feet below, there was a large island in the distance it looked like, no it was, it was Texada Island!  I looked to the left and yes, there, just showing was the entrance to the harbour, Pender Harbour, and right in front of me, only a couple of miles away, framed in the posts of our old veranda was a chain of small islands, so close but always too far!

What was this window?  Why was I seeing these sights I hadn’t seen for sixty years?  I pressed against the glass, yearning to see more to feel the fresh ocean air, and hear the cry of those seagulls I knew were there! I yearned, oh god, how I yearned, when suddenly the resisting glass was gone, I stood on that puckered and weathered wood, I smelt the air, I heard the birds!  I stepped forward; yes, down below was the water surging against rocks! To my right less than a mile away was the island with the herring pen!  I slowly lifted my hands to my face to see if this was but a dream, but as my hands came into focus, they were not the worn and spotted hands I knew, they were small and brown and scratched here and there.  What is this, what has happened?  I turned my head and stared in disbelief at the reflection in the window behind me!

It wasn’t me, yes, yes it was me, a twelve year old me!  I felt my face, my hair, my body, I looked at my feet, it was so, it was a me of sixty years ago!

I turned again, looked out over those waters, always in my thoughts, always loved and then I turned back to the door and with fear and excitement I reached for the rusted knob before me.

I turned the knob and pulled the door open and stepped through into the bare wood living room I had almost forgotten, then suddenly afraid, I stepped back into the light and pulled the door shut once again.  I looked again out over those waters, stepped down onto the ground and walked around the house toward the back.  At the back corner, lying in the shade of the old fir tree, was a small black shape. It was, oh yes it was Jerry! My dog Jerry!  I lunged toward him, crying and crying out; “Jerry, Oh Jerry, its you”!  I fell on my knees at his side, I grabbed him and hugged him and all the time saying his name over and over!  He opened his eyes, he yawned and gave me a lick in the vicinity of my chin, then promptly closed his eyes and slept again.

I couldn’t believe it, he has been gone, dead, died for fifty years! He was always excited to see me, would go into all kinds of contortions and squeeze out a galaxy of noises after only an hour apart!  Was he sick, was it him?  Yes, of course it was him, this was our yard, our house, our view, it was him.  He didn’t look sick, I reached out and touched his nose, yes wet, cold and only faintly slimy, no not sick.  What then, why wasn’t he excited to see me?  I examined the moisture on my finger, then I looked, really looked at my finger and the hand it was attached to, of course, this was the me he saw everyday, all day, why should he get excited?  I hugged him again and was treated to a groan and a wiggle of his tail.  I sat back on my haunches, my brain wrestling with what was happening.  With excitement and fear making me feel as though I would burst, I slowly rose to my feet and turned to the back door of the house.  I wanted to rush to that door, rush through it into the kitchen beyond.  I wanted to, but I could scarcely put one foot in front of the other.  Slowly, ever so slowly I reached the door and as slowly I reached out and opened that door.  I stood in that doorway and my heart, my heart, I don’t know if it stopped or welled up like a balloon, but I know I was frozen on the spot!  There before me, peeling the last of a potato was my mother, my mother of so long ago!  I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move.  She sort of glanced up and said; “Hi dear, what have you been up to?” That’s it, that’s what she said, I tried to answer, my mouth opened and all that came out was a croak.  She said; “Oh, good, well if you go anywhere, don’t be too long, I’m hoping Daddy will be home for supper.”  Again, I made a noise, I suppose it could have been taken, for a yes.  Then at last I moved, I moved up close and I picked up a couple of peelings that had fallen to the floor and when I put them on the table I let my hand brush across hers and she looked up and smiled at me.  I knew I was going to choke, I could feel the tears behind my eyes, I quickly smiled (grimaced?), turned and ran back out the door.  I ran out into the sunlight, I ran to the row of wild rose bushes that hid the privy and flung myself onto the ground and I let the tears come, (did I have a choice?)

I don’t know how long I lay there, but gradually the tears stopped and my mind started to work.  I came to realize I must do something, anything.

I stood up and brushed myself off and without thinking I gave a whistle and called; “Come on Jerry!”  Like a shot he came out from under the tree and headed down the path towards the Wray house.  Any direction would have been fine as I was without direction and Billy Wray was my best friend.  We followed the path past the house next door and there was Mrs. Bell working in her garden as always.  Some instinct seem to take over and I called out;” Hello Mrs. Bell, how are you today?”  She looked up from her weeding and replied; “ Just as good as I was when you went by this morning John.  But if you think you can sweet talk me into more candy – uh, uh, I know how your Mom feels about too much.  And you make sure that black pest doesn’t do his business in my vegetables!” And with a smile she lowered her bright red head back down to her gardening chore.

In just another hundred yards or so, we came on the clearing for the Wray property and there, as always sat Mr. Wray  on the porch smoking a rollie and looking out.   I slowed down, the fear had come on me again, but as I came closer, he looked out of the corner of his eye and said; “ Don’t know where Billy is, go ask Maggie, she’s in the kitchen.”  I sort of sidled past him and went on into the house and into the kitchen, and oh, oh yes, there was Mrs. Wray, a mother to seven kids plus every kid in the neighborhood.  She looked up and gave me a smile from that worn old face, oh how I remembered, and said; “Help yourself to one of those cookies, Billy and Petey are down at the beach.”  Then she frowned and said; “ And don’t you two ruffians go pickin' on Petey no more.  Petey told me what happened yesterday”.   I mumbled a quick thanks for the cookie and with tears again welling up I turned and beat a hasty retreat for the door.  I hurried past Mr. Wray and headed down the short trail to their beach, once again with Jerry, who had appeared out from a bush.  Down at the beach, Billy and Petey were skipping rocks.  Billy right away said; “Bet I can beat you, already did a niner”.  Petey, turned and looked at me and immediately stuck out his tongue.  I looked from one to the other, I had the urge to hug Billy, it after all had been sixty years since we had played together, Petey, well I hadn’t tripped him or ditched him for sixty years either.  I stood there, unable to speak, Billy was again skipping rocks and Petey was watching him.  I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, then I turned and ran with all my might back up the path past Mr. Wray, who’s eyes opened wide and he called as I passed; “Hey, you, what did you do to Petey this time”?

I ran on past and out onto the path that joined the gravel road, when I got to the road I turned in the direction of the Government Wharf.  I eventually slowed down and finally sat down along side of the road and called Jerry over to me.  I gathered him up onto my lap and held him and talked to him.  I told him how I had missed him, I asked him what was happening, I stroked him and I just held him some more.  After awhile, I began to feel at peace, reason told me that I was dreaming a dream like no other and I knew I should allow it to happen.

I got to my feet and now with Jerry at my side (odd, cause he usually liked to range about) walked on down the short distance to the dock.  I climbed up and perched myself on the wooden rail and looked off toward the entrance to the harbour.  Soon, I heard a noise, a noise I still recognized after all these years and as I watched and listened a boat came into sight!  It was the ‘Beatrice R’., Daddy, my Dad would be home for supper!

I rushed down and around to the float where the boat would be tied in its berth.  I watched as my Dad maneuvered that boat in through the log breakwater around all the other boats and with a little flourish, brought her in and docked her like a master.

I grabbed one of the short ropes coiled on the dock and quickly secured the stern and went to the bow in time to pass his bow rope through a cleat and back up to him.  He called down from the deck; “Hiya son, you’re getting pretty good at that, haven’t been down on the floats practicing have you”?  It wasn’t till that moment that I realized that finally I was in a corner and would have to finally talk.  But I got a brief reprieve, because of course he had to shut everything down, write up the log and lock up.  As this was all going on I sat on the dock held Jerry by my side and steeled myself for when we were face to face.

Was it a split second or an eternity when Dad was suddenly beside me and I jumped up looked up into his face, his face, like Mom’s, was from all those years ago, he was so young!  I stood there, again speechless and looked at him, he reached out, put his hand on my head and said; “ Okay all done, had good weather this week, how’s your Mom”?  He dropped his hand down on to my shoulder as we turned and away we went along the dock, up the ramp and onto the road.  After a couple of tries I finally said; “Dad, could you piggyback me home”?  He looked down and said; “Getting a little big for that aren’t you son”? 

So I said; “Well I tripped on one of the cleats coming down the ramp and sort of twisted my ankle.”

“Oh, well that’s different, here I ‘ll squat down and you climb aboard.”

He did and I did.  I hugged him ,oh how I hugged him, not so hard so that he would notice, but I hugged with my heart and all my being.

“Thanks Dad”. I said; “ I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too son.”

We went along together and I knew that when we got home I would find some way to do better than just a touch on my mother’s hand.

We never got there, a fog started to surround us.  The bright sunny sky dimmed to morning’s light and I awoke in my bed to a faint memory of a dog’s bark, my heart of hearts wistful, but my mind at peace.

John Little

December 2006