Cereal for Giants

As I walk along the sidewalk the asphalt crunches under my feet and reminds me of a movie I watched as a kid.

That sound.

A giant eating rocks like cereal.

Crunch, crunch.

A big boom rumbles across the sky and I can feel it shake the ground beneath my feet and reverberate as it comes up through my body.

As if that giant decided to get angry, like me on the inside.

To break things.

I sigh as the rain starts to fall on and around me.

I take a breath and enjoy it for a moment.

The cleansing of it.

Maybe it can wash away some of the stench.

A sudden burst of wind moves down the street and chills me.

Must be getting cold again tonight and being wet and exposed is not a good idea.

Any other homeless person knows that, not that we can do much about it most of the time.

I start to walk on and continue down the street and through the next, searching.

When I go down Pine, I see a big run-down abandoned house.

It is a shell of a thing with its broken shutters and chipped paint.

The condemned sign on the door stares out at me,

Almost cruel and judgmental that sign.

A label.

A warning.

It gives me the same kind of feeling that I get when a mother crosses the street with her child to avoid me.

I look both ways for neighbors watching and cross over to the house.

Moving stealthily up onto the porch I take another look around as I try the handle.

It opens easily and I feel lucky.

Grateful.

I step inside and into what was once the big foyer and it is as dilapidated as the outside, but I can see how it was before.

An image of a girl in nice clothes stepping through this very door and into this room is juxtaposed against the one I am looking at.

"Hey, I'm home!" She calls out and I can hear the ghost of her voice echo through the hall.

I shut the door behind me and call out to make sure there isn't anyone else in here.

I'd hate to accidentally come into a place where the street kids hang out.

Thankfully, no one else is here and I breathe a sigh of relief as I make my way through the bottom level.

Trash litters the place in corners and dirty needles as I see the telltale signs of use from my kin.

Poor house, poor walls.

All the things you must have seen I think as I lay a hand on the cold wall.

The darkness settles in quickly as the sun is covered in clouds and begins to set.

I take a candle off the mantle from beside a spoon and light it.

My feet cause sudden burst of sound as I walk along the hardwood floor.

The steps as I make my way to the second-floor pop and creak.

I hold the candle out in front of me I make my way through the rooms when suddenly one of the boards in what I believe to be an old bedroom gives way and my ankle goes through.

"Damn it!" I cry out and sit the candle and its holder to the side as I pull my ankle out and hold it.

I wiggle it side to side and assess the minimal damage.

All good, I conclude as I pull my leg back and as I do I see something down there that has more form than just the endless darkness.

Curious I lean over and pull the candle to me trying to shine some light to see.

It's dark but definitely something and I reach in for it and bring it out.

A little black hardcover notebook comes out of the hole with me and I swipe the dust off its front.

It’s nice and well made, I think as I finger the ribbon sticking out from one of its pages.

The wind blows suddenly against the house and I look up and around.

A feeling of Something More fills me and my hands shake a little with it.

There is a type of magic in the air and I sit still for a moment to enjoy the feeling.

It's like being a child on your first day of school.

That free fall feeling in your stomach and your heart so new and raw it could burst with excitement.

I look down to the notebook and open its cover to see what's inside and read the title page.

'This Journal belongs to Mrs. Cadence Winifred Packard.'

I whistle.

What a name.

I think as I turn to the beginning pages.

'Tonight, is my wedding night. I am writing while my husband sleeps soundly beside me, and I am sure it was the stress of the day and our love making which has caused him to slip into such a deep sleep. I am content. I am happy. So why are there fresh tears on my cheeks? Why do I feel a grieving for the little girl I lost tonight? It was painful and not very pleasing, but my friends tell me that will pass in time and it will become a thing of immense pleasure. I hope that happens soon.'

I laugh out loud rather sarcastically and hope for her sake that he grows into a husband who cares for how she feels and isn't just selfish.

'Even so it can't take away the happiness I felt today or the look on William's face when the priest asked, "Do you take Miss Cadence Winifred Fields to be your lawfully wedded wife?" His eyes on mine were so alight with love! I hope this is the start of a beautiful life together. I can only pray. Well, I am tired myself and I will write again soon. -Winnie'

I gather a few pages and turn further in.

'I am pregnant! And so soon! Part of me wishes it had not come so quickly and yet I am overjoyed! William is elated as well. When I told him, he danced me around the room and kissed me deeply and I felt so full of happiness. What have I ever done to deserve such a life? - Winnie'

I think about my own parents and how happy they were when they found out that I was going to have a younger brother. A memory of my mother glowing and smiling with her round belly fills my mind, that proud look on her face. How everything was different for us then.

'Liam is so bright and full of life. I love him more than I could have ever imagined possible. He is the light of everyone, even his teachers adore him. I know that I have been impossibly blessed. - Winnie

I flip a few more pages the sound of crinkling pages turning, the edges of the paper brown and aged. The house creaks around me and I listen as it mourns.

'William and I are not on good ground. I talked to my mother about it, but she is just like most women her age. Your husband is right about everything, it is not for you to question. He thinks there is something wrong with Liam, but he is just a child. It doesn't matter if he doesn't like what other boys like. He's an artist. He paints and he's good. So talented! He is joyful as any boy his age should be. So, what if he doesn't want to play ball or get dirty? I don't understand why these things matter so much. - Winnie'

I feel a knot in my stomach for her.

I flip through more of the same not wanting to read too much of the arguing and the living.

‘Liam was in the school play and everyone thought he did marvelous. He is an actor if there ever was one. He is so handsome and bright. Could any mother ever feel prouder than I do tonight? Everyone stood to their feet and applauded as he finished the lines of Puck from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Even his father couldn’t help but to stand to his feet and clap with everyone else. We went out to eat to celebrate after and Liam and his father got into a good, humored conversation about the leading ladies of the show. I could tell this put his father at ease for some reason. It was good to see them get along.’

‘My heart is broken. It is ripped in two and I don’t know if I can survive it. William found Liam with his friend Henry in his room. He raged like I had never seen him before. He tore Liam from the bed and bloodied his face as Henry and I tried to pull him off. He threw me to the floor and threatened the boy before he ran off. My boy! His beautiful face. He is gone now, and I did nothing! His father made him leave and told him he had no son and to never step foot back into this house. God help me. I stood by! What was I supposed to do? I pleaded with him, I begged but he didn’t listen. Liam grabbed my hand before he left but I know, I know deep in me that he blames me too. What do I do?’

Tears are falling down my cheeks for her and her son’s plight.

I feel so badly for them.

It makes me think of my own family and the reasons why I ran away.

Not because of my sexual orientation but because my own father only knows how to deal with problems with his fists.

I shake my head and decide not to think about it.

I always decide not to think about it.

I’m a coward, I run.

Which is why I was here in this situation.

I read on.

‘I have not heard from Liam in well over a year. The last time he sent me a card from Santa Monica. He was happy. Thankfully, he was happy.’

I flip more towards the end hoping for a happy conclusion.

‘William is gone, and I am alone. I am forgetting so much these days. The boy who brings my groceries told me I had mistaken him for my son. I am scared. I am so lonely. Why did I not fight more for my family? - Winnie’

‘They are taking me to the nursing home today. I am going to hide this journal here. If you’re reading this here is a key to a safety deposit box at the federal bank in town, one seventeen. What is there is yours. I hope it does you well. If you can please find my son and tell him that I love him. If you’re blessed enough to have family of your own let my story serve as a reminder to love them and cherish them. I wish I had. Sincerely, Winnie’

I wipe my tears from my cheeks and look around for a moment. An ache for my mother filling me.

To be loved. I was tired of the streets and the life I had chosen.

I find the key taped to the back of the notebook.

When the rain is gone, and the morning light is shining through the windows I leave the house and feel changed.

I decide to head home, to see my mother at least and let her know she is not alone. To be with family.

After taking my seat on the bus I look out the window as the scenery starts to slide by.

A longing for home fills me.

I clutch the notebook to my chest.

I repeat the name of Winnie’s son in my mind.

Liam Packard, I think.

Your mother was sorry, and she loved you.

She loved you.