[For Winnie. A sweet girl who we lost too early. Rest in peace, girlie. 🐈]
“At the intersection, I could go right and head home — but turning left would take me…"
"Well... I'm not sure," I thought to myself, scratching my head as the light's soft green hue flicked yellow and I applied the brake. I'd never noticed the street on the left before, and yet it felt oddly familiar. Quiet. Clean. Asphalt gave way to cobblestone seamlessly, as if by magic. I signalled right, gave one more look down the quaint-looking old street, and sighed. As my eyes scanned in all directions, prepared to turn home, I felt a breeze blow into the open window to my right, and through the open window of my car, I detected a smell I hadn't caught since I was a boy...one that I knew but couldn't quite place.
I stared blankly as my fingers drummed on the steering wheel before taking a deep breath and smiling. A moment passed as I traced my memory for the source of the scent that captivated me. A wet, mildewy smell...not pleasant, by any means, but still oddly familiar and comforting. As the light turned green, I switched my signal left and checked for bicycles...not uncommon out here in the outskirts of the big city, where asphalt met gravel. It was then that I spotted for the first time the road sign that read its name. Linden Lane.
As I turned into the lane, it hit me...the source of the scent, which made me chuckle. It was the old, damp smell of my Nonna's basement. I shook my head in amazement, scanning left and right as I slowly rolled ahead for its source, which I couldn't find. Instead, I spotted a series of storefront with no names, but bright-colored curtains lining the sides of large windows, with a few objects sitting basking in the sunlight in the sill.
I caught a glimpse of a few familiar-looking items behind the panes: a red bicycle, scuffed just so, like the one I learned to ride on; a thick wool sweater, faded at the elbows, almost identical to the one my best friend used to wear. I told myself it was just a coincidence...plenty of old things look like other old things...but something in my chest tightened anyway. The memories came quietly at first, then all at once: scraped knees, chipped teeth, warm spring winds, smoke on a fall evening, and laughter I hadn't heard in years. It all came rushing back to me suddenly.
It was then that I decided to find a parking spot, turning off the engine and stepping out. The scent in the air had changed from Nonna's basement to the smell of her fresh-baked cookies. I grinned as I looked for the bakery that wasn't there.
As my feet pattered along the cobbled road to the first shop, I caught a glimpse of the items that sat in one particular storefront's window...a large red marble that was identical to one I'd lost in grade school. Next to it was a scarf. It looked just like my late grandmother's, which brought a bittersweet smile to my face. "Another odd coincidence..." I thought to myself.
I scrunched my eyes, peering through the dusty window, and in a display case inside the store, I saw a stuffed monkey that looked exactly like one that I'd lost in a house fire some years ago...one the very same grandmother had bought me. The door opened with a faint squeak and slammed behind me with a thud, as a bell on the top jingled. "Be right out, sir! Make yourself at home!" crooned an old man's soft, cheery voice from the back of the shop, behind an old green curtain.
I took a better look at the monkey. Unmistakable. The tear in its side, the stitched seam, the shiny blue button where one eye had been—they were all still there. I couldn't believe it. I picked it up, and some other, far less pleasant smells and sensations came back to me. The smell of burnt insulation, smoke, and wet wood, seemingly long forgotten, had come back as if I was a boy standing in front of the charred ruins of my childhood home...and yet, the friendly, if shabby-looking old monkey sat before me, unmistakably intact, and smelling as it once did before the fire...like home.
I fought tears as I held the old stuffed monkey to my chest, squeezing gently, like I had when I was small. The old man greeted me with a wave of his cane, stepping out from behind the curtain. "Where did you get this?" I asked him, a catch of disbelief and buried sadness in my voice as I spoke.
"We keep what's meant to be remembered," answered the old man with a smile. I didn't bother to ask what strange magic had brought the item back and before me in that moment; I simply held it and smiled at the memory, grateful for its return, thanking the old man with a smile and a nod. "How much?" I asked. The shopkeeper replied softly, "He's already yours." I shook my head. "No, I mean...I lost him in a fire. Years ago. I thought he was--" The old man pointed at it and smirked. "Still is, to some degree. But he came back, same as you."
I sighed as my gaze focused on the stuffie. The fur was matted, and there was a scorch mark on the tail, but there he was. "Louie was—is—his name. I have a boy on the way, and I'd very much like to pass him on." I caught myself as I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. "Really, though...what do I owe you?"
The shopkeeper placed his hand on my shoulder and simply said, "We don't sell memories. We merely keep them safe. Some things do come back. Not all, but some."
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The reason I've chosen to dedicate this story to Winnie is that she had been missing 10-weeks before we'd received a miraculous phone call informing us that she'd been found, albeit in pretty rough condition.
Although her recovery process had been going extremely well--she'd been eating, drinking, an increasingly, walking more and more on her own-- she'd developed Horner's Syndrome, which was likely a caused by an underlying neurological condition. We believe she may have been hit by a car or hurt in a fight in the time that she was missing.
Our poor sweet girl came back to us. And now, my best friend (the very same real life best friend who had belonged to the fictitious worn sweater) and my grandmother (actually my wife's grandmother) from the very story are watching over her across the great rainbow bridge.
Sleep peacefully, sweet girlie ♥️
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