Caught Dreams

The small and cozy space now seemed vast and full of echoes. After mom's disappearance we took most of her belongings and placed them in storage. It had been three years, but I still couldn't bring myself to sell the house. The "what if's" haunted me at night.

There were ashen boxes on the cream-colored walls outlining where artwork used to hang. The delicate hand-embroidered curtains were still up, although now instead of a crisp white, they were a dingy yellow.

It was hard not seeing Dad’s chair in its designated corner. After he died Mom spent hours there reading through love letters, he'd written her. I think sitting in that old, worn out chair gave her a sense of comfort. Almost like a lingering hug. Maybe that was the feeling I was trying to hold onto visiting this old house. But all I felt was uncertainty.

Over the years the investigation had fizzled out. Like any investigation that could not be solved it got placed on the back burner and explained away as a simple wandering off of a feeble, confused senior citizen. They were correct about one thing. Mom was approaching her eighty-second birthday, so she was older, but nothing else lined up. The week before she went missing, she was playing golf. She still drove. She was in no way confused or feeble. Everyone that met her was shocked by two things. Her beauty and her age. Mom was a rare find. She looked like a woman much younger than eighty-two. Her short, brown hair had small wisps of gray that framed her elegant bone structure. Her olive-green eyes were warm, and kind and her smile lit up a room.

"Where are you Mom?" I walked around the house asking myself the same questions I had been asking for three years and the walls still were not talking.

I wandered into her bathroom and opened the organized makeup drawer that still sat full. One pink container stacked upon another. It was time to empty these drawers and move on with life. I had to let go of the "what if's".

I grabbed one of the empty packing boxes that still littered the wooden floor. It probably would have made more sense to grab the trash bin and throw it all away, but I just couldn't.

As I removed the last container,I was surprised to find a small wooden box below it. I took it out of the drawer and lifted the lid. In the box was a small black book. It was held shut with a green ribbon. It was a planner of sorts, and it smelled...

It smelled wonderful! It was earthy and rugged. Definitely not a woman's scent.The edge of the pages were brittle and warped as if they had gotten damp over the years. I opened the cover and saw mom's writing. May 1969- Emily Parker.

● May 6 10:30 a.m.- Go to the bank. Drop Robby at school-butchers-dry cleaners -pick up Ray's suit. Go to the post office.

I put the black book on top of the makeup and walked to the car. I now had some reading material for tonight. Probably just an organized record of mom's daily chores, but it would give me some form of comfort, nonetheless.

My brother Rob was still angry at me for not selling the house.

"Mom never should have put it in your name. You are too emotional and can't face the facts. She's gone Linny. You are foolish to think we will ever see her again."

I knew better. He wanted his share of the money from the sale of the property. Robby was a gambler and every month when his retirement check arrived, he spent it. He seemed to forget he had bills to pay. More often than not, Chuck and I ended up helping. His habits had gotten the best of him for most of his adult life. But I just couldn't walk away. He was my big brother.

Against my wishes, Rob had gotten a lawyer to have a judge declare Mom deceased. They had taken over Mom's bank accounts, and we each had received a hefty check for twenty thousand dollars. Rob had blown through the money quickly. I, on the other hand, still had my share. I couldn't bring myself to spend it. If I did, I would be admitting that she was gone forever.

After dinner Chuck made his way to the den to watch political commentators like he did every evening. I made my way to the bedroom to change into my cozy pajamas before pouring a glass of wine and settling into my favorite reading chair. We had become predictable and boring.

Lately, I would find myself daydreaming. I remember when just being together made the day special. When we both had that twinkle in our eye and the whole world could tell that we were madly in love.

I am a realist, but I also am a dreamer. I know...polar opposites. Can I be both? We had been through a lot of life together. But now the kids were older with families of their own and the house was empty. With that came a lot of solitude. It was a good thing in some ways. Much needed rest after a very busy twenty-five years. But it also lent itself to many hours of pondering and questioning life's choices. Some things were not even choices. They just happened. Like becoming predictable and boring. You fell into a lifestyle....and before you knew it, you were not who you wanted to be.

● May 7 8 a.m.- Dentist-laundry and ironing (buy more starch).

May 8th through May 15th were filled with more of the same. Mundane. Chores that were common for a housewife in the 60's and 70's. I turned the page to May 16th.

There were no words. Just an envelope glued to the page. The tape holding the envelope closed was yellowed and brittle due to the passing years. I opened it and removed its contents. After all of these years the musk smell was still strong.

I knew before I even unfolded the short note that this was going to change everything.

May 16th, 1969

My Sweet Emily,

Never would I have believed that a chance meeting with an already married girl from town would be what kept me clinging to life here in Nam. Do you remember? Every time I would speak to you in the library my heart would race. I knew you were the one. Our weekly visits behind the history section were what I lived for. I don't know if there will ever be a future for us, I may not make it home. Things are pretty bad here. Just know that whatever comes my way, it will be done without heart, because you hold mine and will forever. I love you my beautiful Emily. Until we meet again.

All of my love,

William

The glass of wine nearly fell from my fingers. "But Mom and Dad were so in love! This can't be true!"

I began flipping through the pages, looking only for those that had an envelope glued to them. There were many letters from William. Often full of dreams about a life that would never come to be.

It was 2 a.m. and I had come to the last envelope. I also was on my third glass of wine.

October 25th, 1972

Emily,

My leg is healing. I fly back to the states tomorrow and will be in the hospital until I am able to walk on my own. I have made the hard decision not to return to Clemence. There are too many memories there.

When I met you in 1963, I knew that my life had changed. You were the girl of my dreams. You were beautiful. and sweet. I saw my future in your eyes. But it wasn't meant to be.

Now, you are married with a son and a daughter and from what you have told me, Ray is a great guy, and he takes good care of you. You have made a wonderful life for yourself. I know that we dreamed about a life together, but it wasn't in the cards. Take care of yourself, my love. Be happy. Remember when I said that whatever came my way, it would be done without heart because you held mine? You still do and always will.

Forever Yours,

William Joseph Cooper.

I don't know how long I sat there in silence with that final letter in my hand. Mom had loved two men, and I understood. To feel that exciting race of your heart at the sound of someone’s voice. To feel your fingertips tingle at the slightest touch. To have that uncontrollable curl of your lip at the mention of his name.

As a grown woman I understood....not because I had loved two men, but because I knew the hardships that came with loving only one.

The bills that were late. The unexpected times of unemployment. The disciplining of unruly children. The boring predictability that comes with living with another person day in and day out. When you aren't your best, and when they aren't theirs. So yes. I understood how easy it would be to love when they only saw you at your best. How simple.

I took a deep breath and folded the final note. I picked up the black book, replacing the note in its envelope. Turning to put the book on my side table I looked down to see a folded yellow paper on the carpet. It was different from the rest, and it didn't smell of musk. I unfolded the paper.

My Dear Caroline,

If you are reading this note I assume you have read the others. You now know my deepest secrets. William was an unexpected breath of fresh air in my life. I don't expect you to understand, but as much as I loved your father, I could not bring myself to walk away from William. He was braver than I. He knew that my life with all of you was more important than a frivolous dream with a young man from town. He walked away for us both.

As much as I love you and Rob, without your father this dream has come to an end. Even at my old age, I am free to chase another. I know that this is unconventional, but please let life continue. Yours and mine. I want you to take that twenty thousand dollars and enjoy it. That is my wish. I will imagine you and Chuck taking a romantic vacation!

William taught me that we need to make the very best life, where we are, with those we are with. For me...that was your Dad, Robby and you, my dear daughter. I have learned that chasing a dream and catching it are two very different things. One can bring frustration and the other can bring fulfillment. Your Father was my caught dream, we made it work, and it was beautiful. I was fulfilled and I miss him every day. Don't let the mundane take away the spark. Chuck is a wonderful man. He is your caught dream. Never stop working to make it the best dream you've ever had.

I love you my dear daughter.

Love Always and Forever,

Mom

We never did find Mom. I'd like to think she is living another dream. Her final letter to me taught me more than anything else in life. Dreams I wished for and chased often left me feeling frustrated and lacking. Those we have been lucky enough to catch ...to be living out....mean everything and they are waiting there in the present for us to make them even more beautiful.

On my reading table sits Mom's black book....and one of my own. It reminds me: live and love in the present and be thankful for those caught dreams.