Beginnings

The perfect bookend to a life ill spent!

Nobody keeps a good record of their life, at least not anything that feels real. We lose all the depth in the image, the spirit, the laughter the shared tears. We lose the wrinkled corners of their eyes when they smile after their granddaughter laughs at their endlessly recycled “Grand” dad jokes, (Like “Dad” jokes, only a thousand times better). Once they are gone, they begin to shrink, the consciousness that was once so powerful in our lives, so secure feeling, begins to fade into the background. What was once a roar, becomes a whisper, then a murmur, then an echo, then… In the end, we are left with a few framed pictures, or a photo album, an old dusty leather jacket, maybe a few letters, just scraps, bits and pieces, odds and ends that never add up to who was.

Molly hated this part, the part with the endless sad handshakes and sad words on sad faces from sad people, making her feel, nothing. She felt nothing, just numb, with a slight buzzing sensation. Her mumbled and programmed feeling responses, given back to each successive expression of condolence, nonetheless, seemed to be meeting peoples expectations. That was the other part she hated, the expectations. Why should she grieve a certain way? Cry, don’t cry, be sad but don’t act too sad, go on with life and be strong. She should be free to grieve how she wanted, and “where” she wanted! If she knew anything for sure about her grandfather, Molly knew he would have hated this, this, this mope fest, this self-indulgent woe is me sad, and somber bag of bullshit! Oversized photos, candles, way too many flowers and platters of finger sandwiches. Okay, he did love a good sandwich platter, but other than that, if he was here to see this…. Pllllllfffft. The sudden and quite humorous realization of what her grandfather would do if he were here, made Molly snort out loud! If her Grandfather was here, he would have ditched it to go find some fun, or some trouble! ….But, he is here, its just not him. The sudden unplanned return to her present reality, jolted Molly.

Her eyes darted from face to face in the crowded room. “Maybe I should take a few minutes to clear my head.” Molly turned around and walked quickly towards the back of the funeral home where the immediate family entrance/exit was. She walked faster as she approached the door, pushing it open and bursting out into the open air. Molly took several huge open-mouthed breaths, gulping air in as though she had been drowning. This was so wrong, he couldn’t be gone, he couldn’t. He promised her when she went off to college, they would have more adventures, but now he was gone. How could he leave her too! “I know he would hate this. He would say lets go find something fun or new!” Turning again, Molly walked across the parking lot towards her old 97 Subaru and anyplace else!

The darts landed with a dull thud each time, seeming to somehow echo the emptiness she felt inside. What was she going to do now, what was the point of picking a direction, in a life that always seemed destined to end in loss? Molly sat back down and stared deeply into her beer as she contemplated her options, “I wish I could be like these bubbles and just float away!” “That would definitely have made it harder to find you”.” Molly turned around, slightly startled, but a little too far into her third beer to move quickly while searching for the source of the familiar sounding voice. She needed to lift her head and look up slightly to see the woman in front of her. Tall, long silver hair, striking grey blue eyes and quite beautiful, she knew her immediately. “When you weren’t at the…. service, I figured, you would probably be here. He always loved a good game of darts with friends!.... Looks like you could one now!” Said a familiar woman as she sat down next to Molly without waiting for an invitation and signaled the waitress. She ordered two shots of tequila and a margarita then picked up the other set of darts and took a turn.

Sam threw the last dart as her drinks arrived and Molly finally found her first words. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Hank split up a long time ago?” Sam downed one shot, then slid the other over to Molly. “Oh Honey, nothing in life is ever that simple. Hank and I have always loved each other sweetie, we just always seemed to be revved up in the wrong directions together! That never stopped us from being there for each other though!”Molly sat up a little straighter and looked at Sam closer for a moment. “But, why are you here? You hate funerals more than I do!” “I’m not here for a funeral, I’m here for Frank!”, said Sam in a matter of fact tone. “well, he’s at the funeral”” Molly quipped back through slightly slurred, but still amused lips. Her sarcasm seemed to fall on deaf ears though. Sam just handed her the darts and said “your turn”.

As Molly threw her darts, she tried to think back to the last time she had seen Sam. It had probably been at least 5 or 6 years. The last time, was at her going away party right before she left for University. Hank had taken her to “the cabins” a kind of half mountain man, half hippie yoga retreat hostel Hank had started on a chunk of land near a town called Talkeetna in Alaska! The place always had an eclectic, weird and absolutely fantastic assortment of human beings staying there. Hank never asked a fee, just expected the best from people, and somehow seemed to always get what he expected. He had invited everyone he knew and many he didn’t know yet, to the bonfire, and Sam had come out to wish her well and see the old crowd again.

Her last dart thrown Molly returned to her seat just as Sam rose from hers. “Time for me to get back on the road,” Sam said abruptly. “But, you just got here!” Molly said surprised. Sam pulled a small plain looking black notebook from her coat pocket and handed it to Molly, “I just came here to give you this,“ she said more softly. Molly took the small book from her, turning it over in her hands, inspecting it carefully. She flipped through the very old and worn pages. They were crammed full of small messy handwriting in a variety of color inks and even in pencil. The margins, the corners, every inch seemed to be full of writing. Molly flipped open to one of the first pages, and began reading. “March 17th, 1966. 11th day of rain straight. No sign of the caravan or our ordered supplies, but with the two additional mules we traded for, we are heading down ourselves.” Molly looked up at Sam confused. “What is this,” she asked, before flipping to another page to read again. The date on this page was about 4 years later. “Oct 23rd 1970. “Juanita said she will go, but she wants to bring her two cousins as well, I Love her, but I don’t have enough room to get everyone across if they come, but they are in danger too! We are all alone out here, what have I done?”

Sam seemed to laugh a little as she spoke. “He always had a knack for getting into trouble, especially when he was young” Molly closed the book and looked up at Sam. “This was his,” she asked? “it was his first journal, he started it when he was still in his twenties. He wanted you to have it. There are others, but you have to find them!” replied Sam as she turned and began walking towards the door to leave. “Others? What does that mean? What am I supposed to do?” Molly asked feeling suddenly anxious. “That’s up to you.” Said Sam as she paused at the door. Oh, and you might need this, she said, as she walked back over to Molly, reaching back into her pocket pulling a small envelope out. Molly took the envelope, opening the flap and peering in. Two thick wads of crumpled and dirty hundred dollar bills with rubber bands instead of bank tape around them were stuffed inside, it had to be at least twenty thousand dollars. Molly looked back down at the book confused as she heard the door of the bar shut behind Sam.

A small corner of paper seemed to be sticking out the back. Molly pulled on it, and a single folded piece of paper fell out in her hand. She opened it and stared at her grandfathers handwriting in disbelief. “Hey Mols, sorry if Sam was a grump, I’m not sure how I left things when I checked out, so she might be pissed. I Love You, and I know I promised you another adventure, sorry I’m having to phone this one in! I left you detailed instructions on the back of this note, and a little something to cover any costs you incur. Have fun Luv, Its time for your Adventure!” Molly looked down at the envelope of cash again. She picked it up, grabbed her coat, and walked out.

A thick layer of dust covered the old chest. It had taken her almost a week to hike into the almost abandoned village in the Southern Andes mountains! The old stone church she was currently crouched in the back corner of, sat at the edge of the world. It was run down, but still standing, and mostly closed to the cold wet weather outside!. Molly lifted the chests lid and peered inside, while the caretaker eyeballed her suspiciously. It had been a strange few months, so many things had changed, and as excited as she was to have finally made it to the last journal, part of her was hesitant. What would it say, what else would she learn, about her grandfather, about herself? Inside the metal box was a small rectangular brown paper bundle in the shape of a book and tied with string. Molly took another breath, breathing in deep through her nose then blowing it back out slowly, she reached inside and took the small package out. She carefully untied the string and unfolded the paper, as if any tare any rushed or hurried movement would somehow destroy the sanctity of the moment. Unfolding the last bit of paper, Molly removed a small black book from inside, and turned it over in her hands inspecting it. The small dark bound book was unremarkable, in that it looked similar to the first journal left to her by her Grandfather, though much newer. Molly opened the book and loosely flipped the stiff, crisp pages, then she flipped them again, they were blank! All the pages were blank. Molly flipped through them again more slowly as though that would make words appear. How could this be her grandfathers second journal, it was blank? Staring at the empty pages again, and feeling confused, Molly sat back on her heels and wiped her eyes with the small handkerchief she kept in her back pocket, before looking at the book again. This time, she saw a few words of writing, and realized that not every page was blank. Inside the cover scrawled in a heavy handed dark inked penmanship across the paper, were three words “Your Turn Luv!!!”. On the opposite side, at the top of the first page, printed neatly this time, her Grandfather had written only two more

Day One….