Loving Lydia Stream

Jeremiah first loved Lydia for her honey curls and second for her admiration of sunsets. Now, on their anniversary, he sat alone in his badly decorated room in the assisted living home and was counting all the ways he loved her. Having missed three of her phone calls that day because of his medicated induced naps, this seemed to be the only tactic that kept him awake. Jeopardy played in the background, but he ignored it, knowing from experience that he would soon be lulled to sleep to the sound of Alex Trebec.

“Jeremiah Stream,” her compelling voice had rang out through the voice machine after he woke up, “Just because you’re in isolation, doesn’t mean you get to ignore our anniversary. Now, 54 years ago I promised to love you for the rest of my life and I can’t very well do that if you’re sleeping your life away in that old geysers home. Call me back.”

He smiled at the familiar term of affection he had heard throughout the years of his marriage and tried to recall the others like it.

“I love you Jeremiah Stream and I won’t be doing my job if I let you go out dressed like a scarecrow.”

“I love you Jeremiah Stream and I can’t do that by allowing you to treat your mother that way.”

“I love you Jeremiah Stream and I can’t letting your innards rot. We’re going to the doctor.” Jeremiah listed her persistence as a way he loved her.

“I love you Jeremiah Stream and I can’t do that by contaminating you with some devil virus of the air.” This was Lydia’s sharp response to Jeremiah’s joking suggestion to break quarantine.

Today was their first anniversary apart and his heart ached to be home with her. He imagined them eating her coconut cake and working a puzzle together as was their anniversary tradition. He wondered what she was doing right now and why she hadn’t called again.

Worrying seemed to make him feel drowsy again, so instead he recalled the first time he had told Lydia he loved her.

They had grown up as neighbors exploring the hayfields they had found through the woods behind the neighborhood. The games they played there over the years varied, but when the evening started to wane, they often found themselves sitting down on their favorite hill to watch the sunset. No matter the weather, the rarely missed one. In the summer they listened to the katydids and slapped mosquitoes off of each other. They frequently ruined their dinner from raiding nearby honeysuckle and blackberry bushes. In the winter Lydia brought two blankets and Jeremiah would bring a thermos of hot chocolate. If it rained, they brought umbrellas and instead watched the sheets of rain change on the fields.

Once, on a spring evening with a cotton-candy sunset, Jeremiah had worked up the courage to say,

“I love you, Lydia.”

“We’re kids, Jeremiah,” said the 12-year old girl rather harshly, “how can you love me?”

“I just do,” he didn’t know mechanics of love, but he was sure it had possessed him. With a second wind of courage he ventured to ask, “Do you love me?”

“Mama says love is a decision, not a feeling,” was her retort. He didn’t know what to say to that.

After a sigh, Lydia looked at him with a smile and declared, “I’m deciding to love you, Jeremiah Stream.” Strange as it was, her answer made Jeremiah feel giddy under the sugary sky.

Not long afterwards, Lydia told Jeremiah that because of her father’s work, her family was soon moving to the coast. At 12 years old, Jeremiah was devastated.

“You can’t move away, we love each other,” he said with sweet simplicity.

“We decided to love each other. God will provide a way.”

A week after Lydia’s move, Jeremiah sat alone in his room when something bizarre caught his eye. He suddenly noticed a few floorboards raised slightly above the others. As he inspected the floorboards and tried to guess what had happened, his eyes pieced together that it was a trapdoor. Having lived in the same room of the same house his whole life, he was thoroughly confused as to how he had never noticed this feature, especially since it was positioned exactly where his feet landed in the morning.

Inspecting further, he noticed a small round knob attached to the door. That was definitely not there before, he had thought. As he lifted the door by the knob, he was alarmed to find a set of rickety pallet stairs leading into a dirt-walled space. From what he could see, one side of the space extended further than he could see without stepping down farther. Despite his apprehension he felt the need to explore more.

Testing each step, he descended down into dark space and was careful to leave the hatch open. The dug-out space was clean besides being made of dirt and seemed to be a narrow tunnel that didn’t lead too far before it hit a dead-end with another set of similar steps. On these stairs a strange gold light danced on the floor.

Jeremiah found the place warmer than he imagined and with a pleasant earthy smell. Confused, but no longer frightened he neared the end of the tunnel to examine the light. Coming nearer he realized it was bright sunlight sneaking in from above where another hatch seemed to lead outside. Punching open the door he stepped out and took his surroundings. His eyes adjusted and recognized the familiar sight of the hayfields he knew so well. He was just on the edge of the woods, but it didn’t take much calculating to realize that the tunnel in no way could be that long. It was late afternoon and clouds that had been threatening to storm earlier in the day seemed to be breaking apart. Jeremiah deduced that it seemed like the same hour of the same day. Countless tiny leafhoppers jumped through the fields as the smell of honeysuckle and not too far off blackberries welcomed him. He supposed if he went back through the dirt tunnel, through his house, and through the woods that he would find himself in the same place.

Trying to make more sense of the place he scanned his surroundings and just like he noticed the inconsistency in his floorboard, his eyes made out honey curls mixed with the yellowing grass.

“Lydia?” he drew nearer. She looked up at him, pleased but not surprised at his presence.

“Well, Jeremiah Stream, have a seat. It’s gonna be a good one,” she said taking in the already setting sun. She was right, the puffy dark clouds seemed to have decided against a storm and were instead teaming with the sun and put on a show.

He sat down silently trying to understand the place he was in and the presence of this girl he loved who left town a week before. He looked at her as she looked at the sunset. Her face showed she was content and at peace.

“Lydia, I just found a tunnel leading from my room straight to here. It seems awfully short. And you…should be miles away. Are you a ghost?” He was not teasing.

“I am most definitely not a ghost, thank you,” she defended, “I just came out of the same little hole in the ground you came out of.” Jeremiah glanced back at the irritatingly unassuming wooden hatch he left open.

“I don’t understand,” he said simply, “You’re saying you came through that tunnel all the way from Beaufort. That’s impossible Lydia.” Her head snapped towards him and leveled him with a glare. He remembered she didn’t much like that word. Now, she seemed to be working out in her head how to communicate her theory.

“Well, I decided to love you Jeremiah Stream,” she spouted factually, “I reckon I can’t very well do that from the other side of the state. So, God provided a way for me to do it better.”

Seeing that he was still not satisfied Lydia said more gently, “Mama says it’s best to not ask questions when you get a gift and just say thank you.” Not wanting to seem ungrateful, he silently gave thanks for their gift.

“Your family will be worried,” he realized with a start.

“I’ll go back after the sunset.” The rest of the time was spent like any of their other evenings on the hill. Jeremiah threw off his initial confusion and frustration with the unexplainable series of events and chose to accept it for what it was. He considered himself a believer in an almighty God who had performed many a greater miracle than this. More so, he found magical trapdoors no more miraculous than the fact that this honey-haired girl had stuck to her decision to love him. 

They used the trapdoors near every day for 5 years to watch the sunset together. They never told anyone about their trapdoors, they never felt the need. In fact, they hardly mentioned it in their own conversations, they had more important and exciting things to talk about. Lydia admired out loud the colors in the sunset and Jeremiah would name the stars as they began to appear after the sun went down. Lydia told him what it was like to live so close to the ocean, but their favorite topic was imagining what their lives would be like together.

When Jeremiah finished high school, he proposed to Lydia one late summer night under the stars. The engagement was confusing to friends and family who had not heard nor seen letters passed between the two of them. But soon they were happily married and living in a small, new house not far from the favorite spot.

Overjoyed to be together again, they walked to the hayfields every day to watch the sunset as they always had. These times together marked their marriage and they often recommended to new couples to find a spot where they could enjoy one another’s company together.

Years later Jeremiah developed complications and had to live in the assisted living home to have quick access to medical help. Even then, Lydia spent the better part of each day there with him. They no longer could make it the hayfields, but they were content simply admiring the change of time in each other. They sometimes thought about the miraculous gift they had received when they were young. However, they never saw nor needed any more trapdoors or other strange apparitions to be together as they had never been separated in over 54 years.

That was until now. It didn't take long for the world to be turned upside down by what Lydia called the “devil virus”. Now visitors were out of the question. The assisted living residents were confined to their rooms with no interactions except besides the heavily armored nurses who helped them with their daily needs.

Jeremiah jumped at the shrill ring of the bedside phone. He gave thanks he hadn’t fallen asleep and quickly answered.

“Well, I was starting to get concerned that you had finally wasted away in that lifeless place. I’m assuming that you are still alive because you sound like my husband. Am I speaking with my Jeremiah Stream or are you his ghost?”

  “Happy Anniversary, Lyd,” Jeremiah smiled.

“Short and often sweet, you must be my husband. Listen closely, Jeremiah Stream. Roll out of bed for me and take those old bones a walk, I’ll be waiting.” With that she hung up. Jeremiah was a little hurt and taken aback. He wondered if this was payback for not answering her calls earlier. He was confused as well as to where she’d be waiting. In his head, he imagined the staff fending off visitors with the common room chairs. and Lydia charging them with a running start.

Even so, he felt excited for whatever she had up her sleeve and he willed his aching limbs to slide slowly out of the wheeled bed. He very nearly tripped over a raised floorboard right where his foot hit the ground. Puzzled and slightly disoriented he considered the inconsistent square of floorboards that ran against the grain and the small wooden knob he now noticed as well. The familiar trapdoor didn’t surprise him, but more the fact that he wasn’t surprised. With his stooped back he gingerly tried to bend over more to pull the knob up.

He was now staring at the same stairs he had frequented daily years ago. Lydia’s phone call now made more sense and he gave thanks that he would soon be able to see her. Mingled with his thanks was the request to get him safely down these stairs and up the others.

Getting himself down the wobbly stairs without slipping was slow work, but he decided to take his time rather than make a mistake. Wiping off some forehead sweat he found himself in the same unchanged dirt tunnel. He shuffled over to the other set of wooden stairs and found them also the same. With great effort he hobbled up the stairs and pulled himself out of the trapdoor. The hard work was worth it as he found himself again in a cherished, familiar setting.

“It’s a perfect spring day, Jeremiah,” called his curly-haired wife from their favorite sitting spot on the hill. He made his way over to her. Time had aged her as well, and while her hair was no longer honey (now lovely, cream curls Jeremiah thought) it was apparent her love for sunsets had never faded.

Lydia had been smart enough to bring along two plastic porch chairs. Jeremiah counted his wife’s attentiveness as another way he loved her. He sat down beside her as she said,

“It’s going to be a good one, Jeremiah Stream.” She held his hand as he backed into the chair.

“Lydia, I’m so thankful this time and place together again,” he beamed, “And now, after all this time!”

“It makes perfect sense, Jeremiah Stream. I decided to love you and I can’t very well do that with you cooped up and wasting away watching Jeopardy.” Stunned that his wife knew which program he had been watching earlier that day, Jeremiah counted her intuition as another way he loved her.

“God’s allowing us to keep our promise,” Jeremiah proposed. Lydia kissed him in response.

“I reckon we’re breaking quarantine and every last no-touching rule.”

“You know,” she uncharacteristically paused, then softer but more decidedly, “I figured we could stay here for a while, I packed dinner.”

As the sun and clouds put on their show and stars gradually appeared, Jeremiah began to proclaim to his wife all of the ways he loved her.