Eternal Past Time

Charles’ legs felt heavy as he struggled to put each foot forward, one after the other. His boots were coated with mud that had dried and hardened into clay and yet still clung doggedly to the boot treads. A remnant of the flash flood which had sent him scrambling up a rock face and left him clinging desperately for a time. The storm of hours before was forgotten in the distance, now suggested only by the hint of dark clouds on the horizon that moved steadily away. The unrelenting desert sun barreled down upon him, and his once damp clothes were now just as dry and parched as his tongue. He’d lost his canteen when the strap around his body had snapped during his attempt to avoid being swept away in the flood. Now he’d give anything to for a drop of water, even if that meant drowning in it. If he could just make it to nightfall, perhaps then he could clear his head, find shelter and rest. For now, all he could do was simply follow the sun in the hopes it would lead him home.

Maybe it was the heat, but that word, “home”, eluded him somehow. Home. He desperately wanted to go home, and yet, he had only a vague memory of what that was. Maybe it was his aging brain and the heat of the sun. The idea of home came to him in fragments. An old oak tree with a rope swing beneath its outstretched bows. A blue house with a red door. The hint of earl grey tea with a dash of milk on his tongue and the warm orange scent of freshly baked zucchini bread on the air. A middle-aged woman with rich brown hair watering her plants with a hose cracked from sun exposure. A bounding black Labrador. Charles shook his head. Was that home?

A wind picked up around him as a sandstorm seemed to rise out from the earth which had been still only moments ago. A swirling funnel cloud of sand and dust blinded him as he held up his hands to his face to protect his closed eyes, his nose, and his mouth. It whipped around him as he struggled to stand. And then, just as suddenly, the wind let go of his body and seemed to float away. He took his hands from his eyes, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe away the dust and was struck by what now stood before him. 

“That shouldn’t be there,” he whispered to himself. And yet, it was there. The two-story house painted blue with a red door that stood invitingly open. And the oak tree, with the swing waiting expectantly for someone to sit upon it. He stood for a moment, there at the gate that marked the space between the arid land and the white picket fence that bordered the house. The green garden within the boundary of the fence, a stark contrast to the dusty earthen desert. The door stood open, and Charles wondered, was anyone home? Perhaps he could ask for a drink of water. And yet, it was all so very strange and out of place that he hesitated. Finally, the dryness in his mouth got the better of him. He opened the gate and went through in the hopes that someone inside could answer his questions and quench his thirst.

As he approached the front door, out came a black Labrador that bounded to him barking with friendly recognition. The dog ran up to Charles, his tail wagging madly. Charles bent to pet the dog and his eyes traveled to the tag on the collar. A name engraved on a silver charm read, Marvin. Charles petted the dog and murmured to himself, “Marvin the Martian”. As the dog ran playfully back towards the house, Charles smiled to himself, he’d had a dog just like this one when he was a young boy. Yet again, the word home popped into his mind. As he looked down at the threshold of the front steps he saw a door mat, faded from the sun but written in bold black letters were the words, “Welcome Home”.

A scent on the air drew Charles towards the kitchen, as if he’d always known where the kitchen might be. As he paused in the archway leading into the room, he saw Marvin the dog laying down on a red quilted dog bed while gnawing on a toy. The sound of clinking ceramic caused him to turn in the direction that he already knew was the stove. And there she was, with her rich brown hair and warm smile. Home, he thought again, she was home. This was home. And just as quickly he knew who she was.

“Mom?” the world tumbled out as the sixty-year-old man suddenly felt like a ten-year-old boy again. He choked on his breath and tears welled in his eyes. Before him stood a woman he hadn’t seen in almost twenty years looking just as she had when he was but a child. Standing straight and strong. Younger, happier, and without the bend in her back that the accident years later had so unfairly wrought on her body.

His mother bit her lip and seemed to hold her breath as she waited for him to speak again. But Charles was at a loss for words and just stood for a time. Finally, she moved to the doorway and gave him a long, warm, and silent hug. Then, after what seemed infinity and yet but a second long, she let go and turned back to the kitchen. She grabbed a steaming teapot that smelled of earl grey tea as she guided Charles to the kitchen table, “You’ve had quite the journey today. Let’s get you a spot of tea.”

Charles sat down shaking slightly, the exhaustion and confusion of the day pouring over him. He looked to the dog, realizing this Marvin, was his Marvin. “Marvin buddy, is that you?” The dog cocked his head to look at Charles and then returned to his toy. Charles chuckled, “I guess it is you.”

Charles’ mother filled a waiting teacup with a dash of milk and then with hot tea before handing it to him. Hands shaking, Charles took a tentative sip of tea, the cup clanking against the plate beneath it. His thirst was immediately quenched. And just as suddenly everything became clear to him.

He recalled the events of earlier in the day. A casual day hike alone in the desert. A majestic slot canyon. The flash flood that had overwhelmed him. How he had clung to the rock face for as long as he could. His canteen strap had broken. He had tried to catch it, but in leaning out his hand on the rock had slipped. And he had fallen, dragged beneath the water.

“I drowned,” Charles whispered.

His mother nodded, “I’m afraid so.”

Charles looked around understanding now the reality of what had passed. He had found his way home after all, in a way of sorts anyway.

“I’ve been waiting for you here. I knew you’d find your way eventually,” said his mother with a knowing smile. 

She rose and crossed the kitchen to grab two plates and cake holder holding a loaf of dark brown, newly baked bread. As she opened the lid, the orange scent of zucchini bread swept over Charles. She sliced two slices and placed one on each plate.

“I’ve missed your zucchini bread,” he said taking the plate. He looked down at his cup of tea and took another sip.

He felt an immense sense of peace pass over him. He was home.

“May I stay here?” asked Charles.

His mother turned to him with a kind knowing smile and said, “As long as you wish.”