As a child I didn’t remember getting into the carriage, only waking… when the galloping horses I rode in my visions suddenly became real, their rhythm calling me from slumber. Now that I have grown a bit, I stay awake to see the sunrise, and feast my eyes on the impressions along the journey. The landscape comforts something within me as I examine every shadow and glimmer of light in this ever changing tapestry. It was a full days’ journey to my grandmother’s house, and I relished every moment.
The carriage stirred the mornings’ still air. Breathing as deeply as I could, I took in the scented blossoms as if drinking them. The lilacs caressed a smile upon my face. I longed for my nose to rediscover them again and again. They nurtured some part of me.
We stopped briefly to water and check the horses, and sat in silence in a meadow. As I began gaining interest in my surroundings, likely given away by the delight revealed within my eyes, the driver motioned me to return to the carriage. He did so by purposefully removing a watch from his pocket, examining the angle of the sun, and resting his eyes on me only briefly before opening the door. We would continue on for several hours.
A subtle change of quality of light signaled we would soon be approaching our destination. As the galloping rhythm lost pace, the carriage slowed down. We turned onto a pebbled pathway, the gateway to my grandmother’s land, and began passing through pastures and forests that filled my childhood with many discoveries. After an hour’s time passed, the forest grew so dense I could no longer look out into the far reaches of the landscape. I focused on the sky directly overhead, knowing that soon the canopy would prevent nearly every cloud and speck of light from reaching us. I drew my eyes inward, the carriage would be engulfed in the darkness of the forest for several minutes before light would find us again. The path lead to an opening, a grand view of my grandmother’s home.
As we approached I distinguished the slightest detail of a figure standing within the opening of drawn-back curtain in a room upstairs. Instantly my eyes dropped to the entrance of the house where my grandmother stood.
Overcome with excitement, I leaped from the carriage and ran into her arms.
“How was the journey, Dear?” She asked.
“Wonderful, Grandmother. I am amazed by the variety of scent, every year.”
She grinned, “My how you’ve grow up! Aren’t you seventeen years of age now? Please hold onto that sweet appreciation of this divine earth, my Dear. It will spare you many sufferings.” She kissed my forehead. “Now, it’s time to wash up. I filled a bath, the water should still be warm.”
As we gathered my things, she shared, “I’ve had a guest, I’ll introduce you tomorrow.”
“Who is it?” I asked.
“A young woman. I fear she is not well. Her spirit has been stricken with a mysterious air as if she no longer wants for any sweetness in life. It’s my hope that by some grace she awaken from this spell.” She looked at me with a solemn gaze. “Perhaps the delight in your eyes, fed by this sweet earth, will help her to rejoice in this world again.”
She enveloped my shoulder within her arm and continued speaking, “We shall discover more in time. In this moment though, I am just so delighted to rest my eyes on you.”
We turned and walked together into the house.
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As I descended the staircase that following morning, my fingers lingered over the smooth carved wood. I wondered who the woman was, this guest in my grandmother’s home. She was absent at supper. I considered that perhaps she had already eaten before I arrived.
The smells carried from the kitchen stirred something in my stomach, and the thought of the woman drifted away.
Somewhere in the midst of chewing, swallowing, and pure appreciation of my grandmother’s cooking, I recalled the woman and laid down my fork and knife, suddenly becoming aware that our guest had a habit of being absent during meals.
“Where is she?” I asked.
My grandmother lifted her eyes. “Whom are you referring to?”
“The woman staying here. As we approached yesterday I saw someone in a room upstairs looking out across the grounds.”
She laid down her napkin and rising from the chair, motioned to take my hand, “Come, let me introduce you.”
We left the table and climbed the staircase.
Knocking ever so lightly on a wooden door just down the hall from the upper landing, my grandmother turned the knob and opened the door.
A woman was standing at the window, she looked to be ten years older than I. She did not turn to acknowledge us. I could see in her profile some sense of longing, perhaps a sadness.
I took my grandmother’s hand into mine, weaving my fingers in between hers and whispered, “Maybe now isn’t the proper time.”
“She has been standing at that window all spring. She never takes her gaze away from the horizon.”
“What has her attention?” I whispered, trying not to disturb her.
“It is mysterious … this longing in her eyes. When you arrived yesterday your eyes were filled with delight having feasted on the bounty you witnessed on the journey. When she looks out upon the same earth that filled you, rather than being filled she is starved and seemingly searching for something.”
“Whatever she is searching for appears to bring her great suffering” I said, sorrow shrouded me as looked upon her.
Grandmother squeezed my hand. I turned toward her and asked, “Did she perhaps lose someone?”
Her eyes softened, “I’m concerned she may have lost herself.”
I observed the woman a while longer, and took a deep breath, releasing it with a heavy sigh. “Perhaps she lost herself so that she can find herself.”
I wondered if she realized we were standing there, but the woman’s gaze remained on the horizon even as we turned to close the door.
---
The following morning I went to the stables to say hello to Firefly, my horse, and readied her for riding.
We basked in the sun, tromped through creeks, and rode the wind, yet the woman’s face was embedded in my mind. Upon returning mid-afternoon I couldn’t help but want to draw her attention off of that transfixing horizon.
We galloped full speed toward the house, coming to an abrupt halt just under where she stood. I hoped that the movement would awaken her from that sleep, but her eyes were fixed on a point well above me.
Feeling determined, I withdrew a satchel full of berries and began throwing them toward her window. One by one they speckled the glass with red juice; she didn’t notice.
Determined, I scaled the stairs two at a time, and burst into her room. “How many berries must I throw at that window to wake you up?”
She remained motionless.
“Wouldn’t you rather come collect some berries with me? Can’t you enjoy even pie?”
Short on ideas, I walked over to the bookcase and withdrew the first book my fingers rested on. I opened it to a page at random and began reading it out loud, ultimately finishing the story. “They fell in love and lived happily ever after.”
“Did they?” Her voice was strained.
I made a plea for her to continue. “What?”
“Those books… do you believe them?”
“What do you mean? They’re fairytales!” I said.
“Do you believe that your Knight will come and rescue you…? You will fall in love, and live happily ever after?” She turned back to the window. “Please just leave me alone.”
I hesitated for a moment before I lost control of my mouth. “You stare at the horizon as if waiting for someone, motionless…absorbed in some deep trance of suffering. Why? Are you waiting for someone to return from slaying demons that will rescue you from this tower-like prison you have created for yourself?”
She stared into me as if measuring how to rip my tongue out and then returned her gaze to the window before she spoke. “Men don’t slay their demons, they dine with them.”
I could feel her heart sink into a well of despair.
“It took me a day’s journey to get here. If I could somehow capture all I see and hear and smell while on that journey, with paint, I imagine I would be the most amazing of painters. I do not know how long you have been like this, but it has been too long. There are waters that will wash your wounds, the sweetest blossoms that will fill you. There is unexpected delight that appears in the most graceful of moments.” I took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Won’t you come with me to explore this place?
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Written by Kathryn Delaney
1500 Words
2014
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