All His Children

It was a typical evening for Terry Gind; he sat in his favorite rocker in the living room after a very modest supper, looked into space with seemingly worlds of thought spinning in his head while the only sound in the room was the constant ticking of the old table clock on the television. He sometimes gazed out the window; the sun was setting much earlier now that it was November.  At 5 o'clock it was already starting to get dark in the peaceful neighborhood where he had lived for 50 years. Terry was frail now, in body and mind; his was a quiet life, and quite lonely. It wasn't always this way; in fact he had led a full and prosperous life, not lacking in happiness and fulfillment. He and his late wife had raised four children who, now grown, had children of their own. The family came around less often now, since Terry's wife had died six years ago and the grand kids had gotten older. Three of Terry's children still lived close, but when they did come, it was more to check in on how he was, in his state of fragility and decline, and less so to interact with him as a person.

Terry spent a great deal of his time thinking, pondering memories of happier times. He thought of Thanksgivings through the years, when his wife would cook a rare feast and the kids would come over and even before that when they were all still at home. Each year was something special, but it seemed so far away, yet had occurred in the very midst in which he sat. It was that time of year again, but he knew that memories of those times were the closest he would ever get to them again. Oh, the kids would probably stop by with some take out and eat it with him the Sunday before Thanksgiving, seemingly out of some obligation rather than pure want. That's how it had been in holidays past; it seemed almost a tart slap in the face to the genuine times remembered from past years. He frankly perferred the memories to the poor replicas he experienced now. 

Lost in tender thought, Terry was startled by a sudden noise in the kitchen, like the accidental banging of a pot. He wasn't scared; though he was alone he seemed to know he was safe. He slowly made it around to the kitchen where he saw a woman starting something on the stove. The lights in the house were warmer now, glowing yellower than before. He thought at first it must have been his daughter Alice. She must have come in while he had dozed off and started cooking; maybe it was for a dinner he'd forgotten about it; he did often forget things. Then he looked closer, that couldn't be Alice. The woman at the stove had bright red hair done up short, nothing like Alice's. He stood in silence in the kitchen entrance, still trying to figure out what was going on. Then the woman at the stove turned, heading to the fridge. Startled wonder filled Terry's eyes; it was Louise. He didn't know how it was possible, but he also didn't care. All he knew was that right before his eyes his wife was cooking Thanksgiving dinner, like she had countless times before. She was intent on her work and though she noticed Terry, she was not surprised and merely acknowledged his presence saying, “Did you get the truffles while you were out?” Terry paused, his mind raced to remember. It didn't take long to remember the white chocolate truffles he always got for holiday get-togethers from the small grocery store just down the road from the end of the street. He knew he hadn't been out in over a week; he hardly drove himself anymore, and instead just went with family or friends if he needed to go somewhere. He felt in his pockets for his keys, so he could go to get them (even though the small store had long since been torn down and replaced with a big-chain store, one that, needless to say, didn't carry the truffles. They hadn't been available anywhere local for years.) He turned, headed to the family room to look for his keys when he saw a mound of truffles in a bag on the table, each wrapped in that familiar gold tin foil. Still overwhelmed he turned and meekly replied that he had in fact gotten them. 

Terry sat back down, still bewildered. It was dark outside now but snowflakes could be seen in the yellowy porch light. Familiar sounds of Louise bustling in the kitchen were like the comfort of a warm blanket. Terry felt the peace wash over him, weighing his eyes almost shut. His meditation was disrupted by the approaching of footsteps to the door. There were muffled voices outside, voices of kids; they were unmistakably familiar. There was a knock at the door, to which he eagerly puttered over to answer. He had a look on his face of child-like anticipation as the door swung 'round. At the door were his four kids, and...wait. Terry studied harder; they each had kids with them, only they weren't their own. These weren't his grand kids, but they were strikingly familiar. It was only because of his failing mind that he didn't recognize them all right away, but there was no being confused for long. They were all his kids. He looked at every face, recognizing each notable phase of his childrens' lives smiling back at him. They each rang out a “Hello!” at once then started in. The younger children ran hurriedly, following the smell of the goodness cooking in the kitchen, while the others meandered in with smiles on their happy faces.

Somehow the table had been set, but then, Louise had always been an expert homemaker. The warm settled air in the room buzzed with the electricity of chatter. Terry marveled at what he was seeing. He dreamed every night, and this was no dream; it seemed all too real. But how could it be real? He decided it didn't matter, that he was going to savor every precious moment of this communion, for however long it lasted. He sat down at his usual spot as Alice and Rebecca finished setting the food on the table. There were so many people there. So many familiar and dearly missed faces. Tears began to well in Terry's eyes as he looked at each of his kids, and his wife who he thought he'd never see again. Food was heaped onto plates and the hungry children were eager to dive in. Louise had made up a plate and passed it down to Terry; it had all his favorites. He hadn't had these foods in years! The flavors were so vivid and brought back so many memories. He began to laugh and talk, savoring the good food between words. 

Leaving some food on her plate, a young Rebecca (probably five) got up and hopped on Terry's lap. He'd forgotten how she always used to do that before he'd finished eating. She talked to him about her cat, Smokey. Terry remembered Smokey, he was one of the kids' favorite cats when they were growing up; that would have been about 45 years ago. A six-year-old Alice talked about how she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up. Her opinionated teenage self butted in, “You'll change your mind when you get older! School is the worst. Why would anyone choose to be there when they don't have to?!” A much older, wiser Alice smiled slightly and referencing the teen said, “Alice, don't sell that little girl's dreams short; you might be surprised that you'll change your mind when you get older..” Alice had been a grade school teacher for over 15 years. 

A young Dave maneuvered his fork, getting accustomed to the new cast on his arm. A somewhat older Dave had a cast as well; same color but on the other arm. Terry had forgotten how many times Dave had been injured through the years, but he looked down to his now middle-aged son and felt relief, knowing that he would make it through those treacherous, adolescent years. Terry wasn't surprised that the two young Marks were off in the living room playing together, having finished their meals; Mark had always been sort of a loner, a creative type who was content with his own company. Maybe that's what made it so easy for him to move away in his adulthood, in pursuit of a bolder, more fulfilled life. Eleven-year-old Rebecca talked excitedly about her recent first dance lesson. “You're going to love having a place to dance other than the living room!” Terry said, smiling as he glanced at a much older Rebecca. She mirrored his smile big and warmly, laughing as she confirmed, “And so are you! You won't have to worry about her breaking things anymore!” 

After dinner the younger kids went off to play while the adults talked in the family room. Those white truffles were just the thing to round off a perfect dinner; Terry folded the golden wrappers together and tucked them in his pants pocket. He smiled amidst some slow-paced conversation with his kids and wife. Things were winding down now. The lights in the room seemed dimmer somehow. Before he knew it all the kids were getting on their coats and were ready to head out. Louise said goodbye then headed into the kitchen to start the dishes. Terry walked his kids to the door, though sorry to see them go. What were goodbyes after an evening like this? This seemed only the beginning of the reconnection to the stalemated relationships that he had missed so. They all said their goodbyes and headed out into the cold chill of the night. 

Terry slowly made his way toward the kitchen; he was going to help dry the dishes as Louise washed them, as he always used to do. He stopped in the doorway; only the nightlight above the sink was on and all the dishes were washed and in the drainer. Louise was nowhere to be seen. With that sunken feeling of loneliness coming back, Terry scooted over to his chair again. He was tired, but for the first time in a long time, in a good way. The clock had resumed its tireless task of ticking. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the folded tin foil wrappers. He smiled through his eyes as he leaned his head back, letting himself start to fall asleep, wondering what he might dream.