DAWN
The sole of Julie Cates’ slipper softly trod on the driveway scattered
with stray woodchips and dewy leaves.
She walked stiffly to the end of the deep driveway and reached down to
pick up the newspaper. Behind her,
Julie’s home was sheltered among the northern
Inside, she unsheathed the paper from its plastic bag and laid out each section separately on the wooden table. Julie walked to the closet and returned her old flannel-lined coat to its place next to Don’s jacket, still there two years after his death. Julie was an efficient woman who had boxed and gotten rid of most of her husband’s belongings, storing only what she thought her grandchildren might have an interest in, in the future. However, she had overlooked his jacket and had not made an effort to move it. On a lonely morning like today it sorely reminded her of his absence and sent her reluctantly into another long day.
Even as she tried to read the novel she had chosen at the neighbor’s yard sale, she found herself completely absorbed in memories of Don’s last days in the hospital cot, hooked up to whirring machines and tubes. She recalled that Arabelle and Christian were there the day the nurse had told her that the heart disease had not been found quickly enough, and there was little hope for Don. She brightened a bit at the thought of her two grandchildren, and she was looking forward to seeing them in a few days for Thanksgiving. However, even seeing them was bittersweet, because of Bryce’s tragedy. The kids were too young to remember their father well, in fact Arabelle hadn’t even been born yet, but every day since the attack Julie had thought about her son.
As a hobby, Julie enjoyed quilting, and pulled out her latest work-in-progress to distract herself and to keep some activity in her slow life of retirement. Her needle pierced through the top of the lap quilt she had fashioned with big blue and silver swirls, down through the thick cotton batting and out the other side. In and out, up and down. Her house was quiet enough for the black and white kitchen clock to be heard beating out the seconds and the consistent stitches soothed Julie. Once her aging back had had enough of hunched sitting, she put the quilt away and was pleasantly surprised by how far she had gotten. Perhaps she would finish this one soon.
On Thursday afternoon Julie welcomed her grandchildren and their mother, Sally, into her cottage. Arabelle and Christian ran into the tiny guestroom arguing about which of Grandma’s quilts would be on the bed in which they slept.
Julie turned her attention to Sally. Her black pumps and pencil skirt contrasted with Julie’s modest and casual style, but it was always a pleasure to see her daughter-in-law. “I’m afraid my timing is a little off with the cooking. I haven’t even put the bread in yet, because it took me all morning to figure out the turkey marinade recipe. Do you want to get set up around the house while I work in the kitchen for a while?”
“Of course, Julie, don’t worry about it. I’ll start unpacking, but tell me if there is anything I can do to help you.”
Julie checked on the rising of the bread, and was working her way through peeling the potatoes as Arabelle and Christian walked in.
“Are we going to eat soon, Grandma?” Arabelle asked.
“No, we still have lots of time before all the food is ready. But it is time to punch the bread dough, and I know that’s your favorite job.”
“Yeah! I love helping you cook.”
“Do you want to be a chef when you grow up?” Julie asked her granddaughter conversationally.
“No, when I grow up I want to be a lawyer. Or a judge. I think.”
“Really? Did your mother give you that idea? You know, you don’t have to decide now, you have your whole life to choose what you want to do, and you’re still so young.”
“I want to be a firefighter!” Christian nearly shouted.
“Well, that’s wonderful, sweetie. Firefighters are very respected, they help save lives.”
“That’s why I want to be one. So if someone can’t get out of a building that’s on fire, if they’re stuck, then I can save them before it’s too late.”
“Yes, and I’m sure that if you become a firefighter you will rescue so many people you’ll earn a medal and become a hero.” She flashed a watery-eyed smile.
Soon Sally joined them and the entire family prepared the Thanksgiving feast. It was small and quiet, but it was just what they all needed. They sat around the golden, maple table spread with a hand-sewn tablecloth, until nobody could take a bite more. Arabelle and Christian, who had been quietly satisfying themselves with food, were as talkative as ever now, as the adults cleared the plates. The kids insisted on playing game after game. Board games, card games, acting games -- they never wanted to stop.
“You guys have tired me out. I’m not used to so much activity living alone.” Julie spoke to her grandkids.
“But we have to play as much as we can because all the games are better with four people.” Christian said.
Eventually the kids were put to bed, curled under Christian’s choice of cotton pinwheel quilt, and Julie did not hesitate to go to bed herself. At seventy-six she was proud of her slim, petite figure, but nobody can stop time, and her age was showing. Her hair had been white for years now, and she couldn’t remember the last time she was able to sit on the floor cross-legged comfortably. Spending time with her grandkids made her feel lazy and sluggish compared to their energetic bodies, although she told herself that nobody expected a grandmother to measure up to children. But she had a feeling that somehow her life had been switched to slow motion, and everybody else was moving past her in real time, and she was missing out.
Julie put
these unsettling thoughts out of her mind and slipped under her own covers into
a light sleep. She turned over once
in the night and was awakened by the glow of her alarm clock.
Only 11:
“Arabelle and Christian are growing up so fast. I know everyone must say it, but it’s true. You know, Christian told me he wanted to be a firefighter?”
“Yes, he’s told me too. We went to the fire station for his ninth birthday. He asked me about Bryce, and ever since then he’s wanted firefighter everything. He thinks that if he had been there, he would have been able to save Bryce.”
“I think about Bryce all the time, and Don. When I don’t think about them I have dreams about them. I can’t get over it. How have you coped?”
“Well, it was tough at first. I went to counseling for a short time after Bryce died, and met a lot of other families who were affected by the 9/11 attack. But for a while now, the kids and I have been doing okay.”
Every time
Julie tried to face her son’s death, the horrific images surfaced and she had to
fight them down again, so she was never able to recover. On Tuesday morning,
September 11th, Don had kneeled in front of the TV to set up the
video to record an old mystery episode favorite of theirs.
As soon as he saw the planes, the smoke, the towers he called Julie away
from her cereal bowl, and began to weep.
The violent images were so traumatic that they had hoped for false hope.
Perhaps Bryce had gotten away, what floor did he work on? Nothing was
more devastating to Don and Julie than to see the
Julie confessed to Sally, “Well, I have to do something to help myself get over them. I hope this doesn’t sound too crazy, but I think I’ll take a quick drive to the coast -- just to get out and think things over. Will you be alright alone? I’ll be home before you wake up.”
“Yes, I’ll be fine. Are you…? Well, okay. Be careful though.”
Julie pulled
on a sweatshirt and her clogs, grabbed her car keys and slipped out the door.
The scent of fresh wood put a smile on her face before she realized it.
She was feeling strange, and she thought that doing something out of the
ordinary would be good for her. She
didn’t quite know what her purpose was or what she wanted to get out of this
trip but she let her mind and body relax.
The old station wagon pulled out onto
As she stepped out of the car, the chilly wind whipped her white hair into a flying mess, and wrapped her baggy clothes tightly around her. Julie slowly made her way to a bench bordering the sand. She sighed deeply and gazed at the bright moon, as a light mist came off a wave and draped droplets of water on her face. The tide was up, and the ocean was pushing the river water away into rough white waves, as if rejecting it.
She became absorbed by the rhythm of the sloshing water. In and out, back and forth. She was mesmerized by the moon’s ability to pull the tides, and for a long time Julie sat on the bench held fast by nature’s beauty. The moon gradually arced its way across the sky, shedding light upon the crests of gentle waves beating on the shore.
At first
Julie’s mind jumbled all her troubles together: Don’s sudden death on the
hospital bed almost two years ago, Bryce’s horrific death in the
Eventually the sky behind her grew lighter with the promise of the rising sun, and the faint light mingled with the moon’s glow upon the shimmering surface of the water. The tides had receded at this point and the dark ocean created serene ripples on the shore. The winds had died down as well and where the two bodies of water had once frothed, it was now calm. The river flowed smoothly as the ocean accepted it. Enraptured by Mother Nature’s capacity to keep the entire universe in order, each living being moving in and out of the master timeline of life, Julie became peaceful too. The warmth of the sun assured her, that even as the beautiful moon was low on the horizon dipping out of sight, the sun was always rising on the other side.