Come Before Winter – Chapter Ten – Is Anybody Home?
December 10th, 2021
2 Timothy 4:21, “Do your utmost to come before winter.”
CHAPTER TEN – IS ANYBODY HOME?
Shadows shimmied to the corners of the four walls, and as the light from the street poured in the windows, those shadows tried to hide, as if frightened and exposed. Every once in a few hours, the dusk was stronger than streetlamps and daylight, and it strode forward, eating what little light remained. The child lay on her back, gazing around herself as the different seasons passed by all-in-one day. She pounded the pads of her feet together, the jostle making her feel alive.
The afternoon became swallowed by the evening which eventually was shred by the night. The child watched the door, clapping her hands and then her feet together. Foreign noises fell from her mouth that she wasn’t used to making. ‘Dadadadadadadadadada,’ was a chant that was on her lips. ‘Papaw-papaw-papaw-papaw,’ came too. The child watched the door, then immediately the window, back to the door. She’d hear a noise and clap her feet, but when no one came, she grew still and silent again.
She couldn’t hold it any longer and wet herself. Wet herself again. And eventually again. The only noise that left her lips for so very long were little gurgles, chirps, and she blew bubbles for entertainment for a bit. She was a good girl; she wanted no reason for Dada to think differently. Just the thought of him, the thought of Papaw, made her want to cry. She watched the door hopefully, patting her feet together over and over. He’d told her to stay right there. ‘Stay right there; don’t move, and before you know it, Dada will be right back.’ So she waited. Right there. Eventually even wetting herself. He said, ‘Don’t move,’ and she didn’t. ‘Dadadadadada,’ she cried.
The shadows came again, and the day ate the shadows soon and then the shadows swallowed the light. Her back hurt and her tummy ached, and she was frighted by the chill and wetness and the smell of herself. Still, what if Dada refused to come for her if she moved and didn’t wait? So, she waited more, and when she could no longer feel her back beneath her, she rolled to her stomach. It hurt so bad, a hollow forming inside of it. It became a game; she rolled until she bounced off one wall, then rolled back til she bounced off the other wall. And back again. The room was so tiny, it didn’t take her long to get back to where her dada had told her to stay. Maybe he’d never know.
She wasn’t sure how much time had slid by. She could no longer feel her legs, and something raw and oozing on her bottom and back was too painful to touch. Her tummy felt like a lead weight, anchoring her to the floor, and suddenly, the child felt angry, all alone and abandoned. When the wailing began, it couldn’t be stopped. Who cares if Dada is mad, the child comprehends? Who cares because he isn’t here! And she cries even louder, at once kicking the door halfheartedly with her heels.
Mercy must have drifted to sleep, but suddenly she hears, “There! There! It’s a child! See? Is it dead?”
Mercy wonders…what is dead? Is that what I am? She wants to cry but nothing comes out, and she hopes the nice lady doesn’t leave. ‘I’m here,’ she tries to cry aloud. ‘Please help! Don’t leave.’ She has nothing left, nothing possible to say or do. But at once, the door falls open and several people rush in. They press against her, and she listens, for what, she doesn’t know. Then, ‘She has a pulse! She’s alive. Let’s go!’ Strong arms lift her, and she thinks to herself, ‘Dadadadadada. Papaw-papaw-papaw! You finally came back!’
Psalm 139:7-12, “Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit? to be out of your sight? If I climb to the sky, you’re there! If I go underground, you’re there! If I flew on morning’s wings to the far western horizon, You’d find me in a minute—you’re already there waiting! Then I said to myself, ‘Oh, he even sees me in the dark! At night I’m immersed in the light!’ It’s a fact: darkness isn’t dark to you; Night and day, darkness and light, they’re all the same to you.” (MSG)
To Be Continued…
