The Lost Last Morrow

by Donna Poole

It’s a quiet summer afternoon. She looks out of the car window, and yesterday suddenly pulls her into a bear hug. She can hardly breathe. The half-forgotten beautiful memories of last morrow run from her eyes and chase each other down her cheeks.

The fireworks fade from the sky and only the acrid smell of smoke remains. Parents are tucking sleepy toddlers into car seats.

“Did I fall asleep, Mommy? Did I miss it?”

“You can let go, now Daddy! Look at me, Mommy! I’m riding my bike!”

“Who gives this woman to be married?”

“Her mother and I do.”

The wind whips sand across the empty picnic tables in the pavilion. The garbage cans are overflowing with chip bags and paper plates and napkins smeared with chocolate cupcake crumbs. Only one helium balloon remains, high up at the peaked roofline, that and a tattered piece of blue crepe paper. She can’t reach them.

It had been a wonderful family reunion, and she didn’t guess that when they next gathered one would be missing. And the year after that, another.

The home that echoed with years of laughter of children and then grandchildren has become too quiet. The ticking of the clock is so loud it hurts her ears. Their combined tears drip down over their gnarled, clasped hands. Will this be their last time to kiss goodnight? The hospice nurse says perhaps it’s so.

Gone. Gone!

***

“Are you okay, honey?” he asks.

She wipes a tear, laughs, and turns from the window to look at him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

And this is why I can never remember how to get anywhere. The minute I get in a car and look out of a window my brain starts remembering true things and then telling me stories. I forget where I am. It’s been this way ever since I’ve been a little girl.

She explains all that to him, and he nods. He acts like he understands; he’s heard it all before.

“Does your brain tell you stories?” she asks.

He laughs and grips her hand. “Not really. But it’s okay that yours does.”

She smiles at him and looks out of the window again, thinking of that word.

Gone.

It’s such a sad word, isn’t it? Thank God memories remain, but they often bring with them tears for departed joys. Why didn’t I see the treasures I held in my hands before they crumbled to dust and became just shadows in my heart? What I wouldn’t give for the return of just one golden day! A day I thought so ordinary then, a day I took for granted.

Perhaps, on my next morrow, my eternal tomorrow, God will return to me those lost days. Maybe he’s been keeping them all this time for me to one day find them again at Home, more beautiful than they ever were here, more radiant with love, full and running over with joy.

But now?

Gone. Last morrow is gone. Next morrow is certainly coming, but when? It’s not here yet.

I’m smiling through my tears, though; does God see a rainbow? I have today to live, to love, to laugh, to pray. I have this day, this extraordinary day, to catch my breath at the mystery and beauty of golden bales of straw, the love in the voice of a friend, the laughter of family, and a husband’s whispered good night. I have today to hold in my hands and cherish before it all too soon joins my other lost last morrows.

She turns from the window and smiles at him. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about what meals might sound good for camping. Want to make a list?”

“Sure.”

She writes the list, but at the same time she tries to memorize the way he looks driving, the sun shining on his gray hair, the sound of his laughter, and the clouds racing by in the sky. It’s a wonderful, fantastic, one-of-a-kind extraordinary ordinary day.

The end

***

These blogs are now available in book form on Amazon:

Backroad Ramblings Volume One: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Two: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Three: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Four: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

I have six other books on Amazon as well, four fiction books in the “Life at the Corners” series, and two children’s Christmas picture books.