Through the barn door

Felicity stared out the large, country window, her soft grey curls framing her wrinkled face. She sat like a statue, so still that you could barely see her breathing. Around her were the rumblings of her family, different voices coming from different parts of the house. But this commotion did not stir any reaction from the frail old woman, and she looked more like a beautiful portrait of an elderly lady rather than one in real life. In fact, the only sign of life, actual life, were the occasional blinks from her big, brown eyes.

Sporadically, one of her family members would come into the kitchen to say something to Felicity, and without turning her gaze, she would give them a nod as confirmation that she was paying attention. But it wasn't like she wasn't paying attention. The fact of the matter was, Felicity just didn't care. She just wanted to be left alone.

She knew that there would be this fuss after John's passing. A fuss and decisions made about her life, property, and well-being; a fuss without any consideration from the person they were fussing about, from Felicity herself.

Around noon her middle child came into the kitchen and sat across from her. With her chubby fingers she grabbed Felicity's hand and cooed. "Mother are you hungry?" It was always Chloe's style to be the concerned one, the caring one. From an early age, her daughter wanted to be known as the one who cared the most. But Felicity knew better. Her children didn't care anymore. For a time often does, it changes things. They were grown with children of their own, and she was no longer the apple of their eyes, their hero. She had now become their burden, a burden they had to drive hours to see, a burden that interrupted their new lives with memories of the past.

But that wasn't the case with her Charlie, sweet, sweet Charlie. Her favorite had never grown, was always happy to see her, and no matter what time had passed she would always be his number one. She couldn't wait to see him, to play with him, to hear his voice again. It was on the border of an addiction, an addiction to Charlie's pure untouched love. Maybe she should pack a bag? Maybe wear his favorite dress? He loved the sunflower dress and whenever she wore it he would always exclaim. "Momma, you look so beautiful, just like a flower!" Yes, she would change and she would pack a bag.

Day turned into night, and without anyone paying her any mind, Felicity had changed into the sunflower dress. She got up from the kitchen table and grabbed the small, leather suitcase she had packed. It was heavy, for she didn't want to forget anything, and she had to set it down as she opened the back door. The outside was fall and it wrapped Felicity with a pleasant crispness that only added more joy to the moment.

She couldn't wait to get to the barn, she felt like she was running, and a lady her age moving that fast was just as exhausting as running. She could see the barn across the green, half acre. There it stood the test of time, long, over-grown weeds like a protective fence around it. She pulled the grand, wooden door open bringing in the light of the stars and the chill fall air. At first glance, it appeared to be a place that just stored long forgotten farming relics. But to Felicity and only Felicity, it was much, much more.

She sat her bag down, closed the door, and cried out "Charlie". Within seconds her brown haired angel rushed her for a life-squeezing hug. He was dressed just like she remembered. In fact, she made it a point to never remember him any other way. She didn't go to his funeral, and after the accident; she didn't dare go to identify his mangled child-like body. He looked up at her, big, brown eyes filled with love; and with a sweetness in his voice that was so genuine, he said "Momma, you look so beautiful, just like a flower."

It was sometime after midnight before any of Felicity's children noticed that she was no longer in the kitchen, and it was about an hour after that when they finally found her body; peacefully laying on the floor of the old wooden barn. At 3 am the town corner called it, and one week later she was buried in between two graves. One freshly covered marked John, and one decades old but still attended to marked Charlie.

Now there is a rumor throughout town, that late at night voices and laughter can be heard coming faintly from the old, barn. And they say if you're lucky, you can catch a glimpse or glimmer of the two ghosts playing. A glimmer of a love between a mother and her child so strong and so beautiful, that it has surpassed even death and remains untouched, carrying on and on, forever and ever, thought the windows of time.