Finding Home

The car screeched to a stop.

In the pale moonlight the cemetery cast an array of eerie shadows across the graves. As she got out of the car, she heard whispers of unspoken words and felt the presence of a thousand resting souls watching her every step. Ice licked the back of her neck and ever so carefully crept up her spine.

The chilly autumn wind whipped the woman’s loosely braided locks. Pulling her scarf closer and tighter around herself, she stepped out of her 1955 Chevy Bel Air and started walking towards the gates. The woman came here often when she felt brave. Brave enough to fight her memories. Brave enough to fight the tears. The dark no longer held its ferocious grip on her. She simply did not allow it to feast on her fears as she once had ages ago, when she had her family by her side and the world beamed in vibrant colours.

Things were much different now, for she lived in shades of grey.

Laughter, love and happiness had become nothing more than foreign, anomalous concepts. She had been married once upon a time. Together she and her husband worked hard day and night. They were unstoppable. They were dynamic. They were fearless. They even had two beautiful children. What a shame not one lived to see their 7th birthday. Oh, this sad and brutal world. The accident had taken them all from her. The accident had taken herself away from her.

Life had become a glass of flavourless, stale water. At least water could take the shape of its container. Her only container was this miserable world and her shape was permanently damaged. With her family gone, the burden of living kept gradually accumulating on her just like dust builds gradually upon an old bookshelf. Her family had kept her on her feet. Her family gave her a reason to wake up every day. Now there was no one left to care for. No one to tuck goodnight. No one she could confide in. No one who cared enough. No one to call her own.

As she slipped through the hole in the third panel of the fence, she felt the loneliness surrounding her on all sides. It waited hungrily for an opportunity to pounce on her and tear her apart.

The woman closed her eyes and prepared herself for the waves of pain and memories to come flooding back, but nothing happened. The pain had numbed and the wounds had been bandaged yet she knew nothing would ever be the same. For it is impossible to break a broken heart. Time had made her strong.

She had to be.

The woman had trained herself to let the bullets of misery bounce off her chest, but even her armour could not heal the burned layers of her soul.

The leaves crackled beneath her feet as she made her way to her resting family. She lay the roses in front of the graves and prayed their souls were happy and free. She told them she loved them lots and could not help but let a little piece of her heart trickle down her cheek.

The wind started to howl as she turned to leave. Suddenly she heard a wail rise louder and louder above the angry wind until it echoed off each tombstone and bounced off each tree. Common sense screamed run but she could not move. Beneath the high pitch scream she heard something else.

Pain.

Frantically making her way closer and closer to the sound, she felt her heartbeat multiply rapidly. As the woman walked, she started to hear the faint buzz of the traffic. There behind the bushes. As she pushed the leaves aside, she took a deep breath. What she saw next tied her stomach into a thousand tight knots.

She was speechless.

Three wailing puppies surrounded their mother who lay dead in the fading grass. The poor dog had been run over by some careless fool. She sunk down to her knees. The wound had been sliced once again. But this time her tears were not those of her own sorrow.

She cried for the puppies who would never grow up with their mother’s love. She cried for the lost mother who never got to raise her family. She cried for the broken world. And when she finally finished, the lady let the wind carry the pain to a distant place somewhere far far away.

A soft blue light slowly began to replace the darkness. Dawn had come at last and she knew what she had to do. She placed her remaining rose beside the fallen dog and prayed for its innocent soul to rest in peace. One by one she carried the tiny, shivering canines to the shelter of her car and drove home.

The woman worked tirelessly throughout the early morning and the rest of the day. It was as if a gear had suddenly snapped into its place. She was overcome with a sudden wave of determination. She rinsed and scrubbed until no trace of grief laced their shy, brown fur. The lady threw a pot of stew on the stovetop to simmer as she grabbed blankets from the untouched rooms of her children.

The puppies could not have been older than a couple weeks and already life was trying its hardest to shoot them down. It was all too familiar to her. She too had been a victim of such injustice. She had sunk low to the point where the only way left to look was up. Their tiny bodies lay curled up fast asleep by the fire place, and in that moment she vowed to never let them sink. This was a battle they would win together.

Tina, Peter and Flora she decided; naming each one after her lost family.

She began to care for the pups like they were her own children. As time went on, colour began to return into the woman’s life. Shades of grey turned into beautiful sky blues and glistening emerald greens. Her days were well spent playing frisbee in the park and running around the house making sure each little one ate their breakfast.

For the first time in forever she felt needed. She felt she had a purpose. Smiles replaced tears and while things were not the same as before, life sure was beautiful.

The scent of family lingered around the living room once more.

Looking back, the woman realized that blood was not always thicker than water. Tina,Peter and Flora were not related to her nor were they human. They were much more. They were her family. And as she tucked them into bed one chilly autumn night, the lady smiled.

She was no longer alone. She was alive.

She was home.