The Beauty of Time

Black was the early morning sky with few specks of diamond stars that shown hardly enough to illuminate the way. So black it swallowed up every bit of gray smoke pouring out the chimney as though the roaring fire inside the humble cabin’s belly did not exist at all. As the winter wind and biting cold kicked up snow and ice outside, a man sat alone inside the four wooden walls, warmed by the flames mingling among themselves. His face was tired and deeply creased with time, as if a map of every moment of his life were displayed in the frail flesh. Now left with tired and faded gray eyes, the man’s eyes which were once glistening deep pools of blue and green, were now no longer filled with wonder. The youthful excitement in them was now gone replaced with the wisdom and heartache of age. He stroked his long bushy white beard thinking back to when his grandchildren were small when they called him Papa Christmas with such glee. They were grown now with kids of their own. They still called and wrote but he saw much less of them. He accepted this though; it’s human nature and he was proud of them. His old bones ached as he got to his feet. It was time to go. The light of day had begun to shine over the top of the mountains. If he was to get to where he needed to be, he would need to leave now. Picking up a small leather satchel, he tucked it into his coat pocket. The old man patted his pocket speaking to it as he opened the door into the bitter cold, “Okay honey, one more trip up the mountain for us just like we promised each other.” The cabin door slammed shut as the wind took hold of it while the old man and his most precious belonging made their way to keep a promise to one another.

This man, who through every single moment of his life, had planted a seed in the soul of each living being that had the pleasure of knowing. The love that filled the room at every gathering he was the center of, warming all who were there always with open arms and a hearty laugh; these seeds grew from all these moments of the truest form of love. Even as a young man he did all he could to provide for his family. For the love of his life, he did most anything she would ask with with her voice, which was sweet as honey. This woman was everything he ever wanted and always wanted. Even now as they ascended the slopes; him stomping through the snow clutching his hand over the pocket that protected the love of his life. The memories continue to bombard him as he tried to safely traverse the land to the correct place in such a bad storm. Easily the old mans mind drifted to a time long gone when the love of his life and himself first came to this beautiful place. As the snow swirled around him as if opening a window to another era, he stayed true to his course with a fiery-haired beacon dancing through the trees acting as his guide. “There you are my dear,” he whispered to himself, just barely cracking a smile.

The porcelain-skinned goddess with curls of deep red and lips pink and sweet like roses in the spring sun, danced through the trees barefoot and giggling. The snow-covered ground did not bite her toes with bitter cold. No, not even the slightest, as she was simply but a cherished memory. This mattered not to him for seeing his love like this kept him on course to where he will keep his promise and rest for the last time. Letting his mind wander, her honey-sweet voice filled with wonder, as she pointed to an old oak tree in excitement exclaim, “Look dear a barn owl!’ This bird of great beauty was no longer perching on the branch. Time had passed and most likely the majestic creature had passed into the shadow of death just as his stunning guide had not so long ago.

As the sun peaked through the cloud-free clear blue sky above him the man knew he was close to his destination. His body, old and frail, ached with every movement. Cracking and popping as if in loud protest that the man rest. Kept close to heart was a secret only he knew, his time on this earth was weaning. Soon enough he would join his bride in the golden light, and be guided back to her once more by the wings of the snow white majestic owl that came to be a symbol of their union and commitment. Speaking once more to the small satchel in his pocket, “ We are almost there just around that bend.” Rounding the corner he came to a small clearing with a vast view of the mountains and all the beauty they behold he paused… Sitting down on a fallen tree whilst running his callused yet delicate fingers over a marking in the bark, he traced over their initials. A solemn tear dropped from his eye “ We made it dear, and I will be with you soon” he said, spreading the ashes of his only love across the old carving.

The secret this old soul kept to himself was that he too was reaching the end of his life. He knew the end was soon, the cancer he was advised by doctors was too aggressive. After the death of his wife, he declined the treatment, he was defeated. Opting to live his time left in the place he loved the most, he vowed to be with her until the end and that is what he had done. Sitting on the log tired and worn, breathing slowing more and more, he closed his eyes and whispered, “I am with you” the old man’s heart slowed until there was no beat to find. As if awaking from a long dream he opened his eyes to the red-haired love of his life holding out her delicate hand towards him. She beckoned him close saying, “I have been waiting for you.” With the warmest smile that could melt the thickest ice, he grabbed her hand knowing that his time had come to pass only to turn life into nothing more than a memory. The owl flew overhead as if to bless this shift in consciousness. The old man and his love kept their promise to each other, and they were able to rest in unbound joy together.