A Blushing Sunrise

By: Kathy Pippig Harris
Submitted: 2007-01-17 16:40:08
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My Book of Ups and Downs

Judith came in with the smell of earth and mulch clinging to her hands and clothing. She took her straw hat off and hung it on the hat rack. She poured a cup of coffee, took a sip, then set the mug against a mason jar of evergreen clippings on the table.

She took a seat at the table, near the window. From a slide-out drawer under the tabletop she slipped her journal and a pen out. Wanting to write something, but at a loss on where to start, she drummed her pen on the table top and gazed out the window.

Gem, her Basset-Beagle mix was exploring in the daffodils. A small lizard scurried across the path that intersected the garden. Gem's ears swung forward and she pressed her nose to the ground, hoping to scent-track the little guy.

Toward the end of the day, when dusk bathed the air with gold-spangled dust motes. When it slanted fingers of amber light through leaves and grass and fragile blooms... Gem would always be beside Judith, body-wagging and whoofing for her supper.

It was a time they both savored--eating their meals each night, together. Sharing their memories of the day. They'd then adjourn to the porch and cuddle together on the steps as they listened to crickets and tiny frogs, "invisible" now, except to their ears.

When the sun inhaled the last warm breath of the day and the moon exhaled the first cool sigh of the night. And, for the briefest of moments, their two breaths joined--all was silent. The birds roosting in the trees ceased their early evening chatter. The frogs and crickets stood motionless and then, in the darkling scenery, tiny glowing orbs swam the currents of the night, their green-yellow lanterns flickering off and on... Fireflies, heralding the arrival of the night.

As she began to write, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, then trickled down over smiling lips, puddling on the table and misting the pages of her journal.

Most of the entries in her diary catalogued the times in her life that made her heart sing and her soul cry. But there were also moments that infused her with a peaceful steadiness--times like she'd spent today. Gardening. Enjoying the come-early Spring weather. The in and out tide of pleasant, regular days shared with Gem at her side. The simple things that anchored her--that defined her.

``*``

The paramedics came to the house after a neighbor had called 911. Gem's mournful howls had alerted Judith's neighbor and best friend that something unexpected had upset the old dog.

Judith's daughter, Perrie, had been called shortly after that. The paramedics told Perrie that they could not see the tears, but they had sensed the smile.

Perrie asked them what they were talking about.

They apologized for having read her mother's diary, but it had been necessary to rule out suicide. They handed her the journal. But it was more than that -- it was a lifeline.

That evening, sitting at the chair by the window, she read the words her mother had penned, that last entry in her mother's journal. Each word. Each line. Each thought... settled her grieving spirit.

As night unfurled her silver-gray mantel, Perrie stepped out onto the porch, sat on the steps and sighed. It had been a long day. A day filled with tears and sorrow, until she had read the last entry her mother had penned in her journal just the night before. She clutched the book to her chest, and then a cool, wet nose nudged her elbow. Perrie looked down and there was Gem, smiling and body-wagging.

She reached down and put her arm around the old girl's shoulder, and Gem leaned into Perrie comfortingly.

"Shall we go home?"

Perrie followed Gem's gaze and, she, too, watched the fireflies, mesmerized by their soft dance of light.

Perrie smiled. "There's no hurry, gal. No hurry, at all."

``*``

Should anyone read this, I figured no one would want to read the routine events in an old woman's day. So those experiences never found their way into my book of ups and downs... until this evening. I want to describe one of the most beautiful days I've ever had. Just being able to sort it out on paper has me crying, as I recall my day. My normal, everyday moments--the ones that make me happy beyond description are rushing up to tumble from my mind to the pen I hold.

I shall begin with the blushing sunrise I woke up to. And the smile on my companion's furry face...

``*`` ``*`` ``*``

Copyright © 2005 by Kathy Pippig Harris

Kathy lives in Central California where she shares her life with her husband and furry family. She says, "I work full time for a living, and write in order to live fully." She is also a weekly columnist for the publication Frank Talk, which is distributed in several counties in the tri-state area of Michigan, Ohio, and Missouri. Her fifth book, For the Spirit-Soul, is a collection of her short stories and poems and will be released soon.

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