Free From – Chapter 3 – July 3rd

I hope you will join me this month as we JOURNEY each day through our short story. It is about finding FREEDOM in the midst of all the captivating pieces in life that steal our peace which we need FREE FROM!

FREE FROM
July 3, 2021

Psalm 17:15, ‘And me? I plan on looking You full in the face. When I get up, I’ll see Your full stature and live heaven on earth.’ (MSG)

Chapter 3

The boy had fallen asleep with his head on the hero’s lap. The man traced weathered hands across his back and ruffled his hair. How long had it been? Since he had touched another human being? Since he had comforted a child? Memories poured through his mind like a sieve, separating chunks of time and images while tears dripped through the gaps forming from the years he had so carefully blocked out.
A huge gasp, like a forgotten sob, shook the child’s shoulder again. His eyes moved under his eyelids as the man watched him fight an imaginary battle. He felt sorry for the boy; Trace, he thought he’d whispered his name to be. Fitting, a child wandering the city streets alone…soon there’d be no trace of him. The thought saddened Legend. He’d actually been ready to maim someone because of him, go to jail, if necessary, in an effort to protect him. He wanted to find where the boy belonged, but the child had been so distraught, he’d vomited the water he’d gotten for him to drink. Someone, somewhere, was surely looking for him. But nobody as of yet had shown up. No mama hollerin’ a little boy’s name; no one callin’ him home for dinner; no daddy cussin’ the air because the boy had wandered off; not even a gramma wanderin’ the streets, lookin’ for a stray.
Legend laid back against the brickstone building holding up his weight and that of the child’s. He bounced his head off the bricks and etched the chinking with a lazy finger. He hadn’t always lived like this, the homeless hobo they jeered at today. A tapestry of his life tattooed on his eyelids played before him. It must be the heat getting to him, he thought. Legend wiped a tear that had squeezed through the corners of his eyes. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to remember, but the little boy had brought something back to him that he figured he’d lost long ago. The ability to hurt, to remember, to yearn, to think about all he’d wagered, all his family had endured when the authorities had come for him, all he had forfeited the day they locked him up for good. The last time, in fact, he had slept on a real bed, and he smiled crookedly. ‘Jeez, how amazing a real bed would feel,’ he murmured, and his body reacted with a piercing throb in his lower back and a catch in his neck.
Legend pictured his kids. His little boy had looked a lot like this kid Trace years ago, and perhaps that’s what was triggering the pelting stream of memory fire. His girl favored him; their son resembled his mom. She had been the love of his life. Once upon a time. Once upon a dream. Once. Before. The long hours. The fight to stay afloat. The financial crisis. The affair. The job loss. The drinking which introduced the drugs. The deal. The end.
They’d be grown by now and have children of their own. Did his daughter still favor him with the piercing eyes that were so blue they looked fake? Did she still fold her hands in her lap, and sigh every time before she asked for something? Would his son’s little boy look like Trace, like this child laying on his lap? Had life turned out differently perhaps he’d be teaching his grandson how to swing a baseball bat or find the Big Dipper through a telescope lens; not rescuing a boy from the clutches of a sick slick on a hot and dirty city sidewalk. And his wife. His Annie. Wonder where she’d be now? Did her long hair fall across her face still and hide her eyes? Did she smile for someone else the way she had once smiled for him? Did she sing ‘Jesus Loves Me’ to grandchildren as she had sung to their children? Did she still believe that God had a purpose for everyone, and He worked all things for their good? Or had that fantasy died along with every other dream they had ever dreamt? Cuz he didn’t believe in that God at all anymore. Nope, that image died with all the rest. God did not exist. Never had. Never would. He swiped at his cheeks as the memories seeped out of his eyes and trickled down his face.

To Be Continued…