Handful

Queen of my tiny mountain, I stood on top of a grassy knoll, surveying my surroundings while a howling wind carried a low wailing sound to me from afar. The wind, slowing momentarily, allowed for the soulful cry to be heard more distinctly, and I could almost recognize it. Was it a bird, a person, a song?

The overcast sky and low hanging fog covered most of what I saw, but spots of pastoral green and tips of evergreens popped through from time to time.

Turning in the direction of the sound and looking down into the mist, I descended as if in a hypnotic trance. Dew from the cool morning grass tickled between my bare toes and a couple black curls fluttered past my face. I wondered why I was not colder.

I wore my favorite dress. The one my mom bought me for Easter three years ago. I missed the feel of the satin brushing by my arms and the crinkle of the ruffles as I walked. I loved everything about that dress except for the black, patent leather Mary Jane’s I had to wear with it. I was glad my mom let me go barefoot today. I started to skip.

The muscles in my legs felt like springs. It felt wonderful to bounce and run. My lungs swallowed up the fresh morning air like fuel. I could almost fly. I forgot what it was like to have this much energy. I loved running and skipping, laughing and breathing.

Soon, I came upon a shadow in the thick atmosphere, and I slowed to a shuffle as it and the song took on more definition. The big, dark shape became many smaller shapes. Tall and short, thin and stout, all huddled around each other with their backs toward me, and their fronts toward the song.

Sliding around the backside of the group, I tried to peek in between them to see what they were looking at. Unfortunately, there were too many of them, and they clung too close together. I continued around the circle until I found an opening … in the ground.

The dark shapes were people all in black, and the song was a cry coming from a bagpipe. That was odd. I loved bagpipes. My mom bought me “Brave” when I was two, and I watched it every day until it wore out. She had to buy me another copy when I was in the hospital.

Mesmerized by the man in a skirt forcing the pipes to play a sad tune, I almost forgot the people. Who were they?

Turning to study the crowd, I saw my Sunday School teacher, Mr. Tark, and dance teacher, Miss Wiggles. Why were they there? Uncle Morgan and Aunt Kali were there. How exciting! My cousin, Pablo, and Nana too. My heart was full.

It had been a long time since I saw most of these people, and when I had seen them, I had been tired. I remember wanting to play or even sit up with them, but I could not. I was too tired then, but not now! Now, I felt like I could run circles around them. I giggled.

Waving at a few of my favorites, I tried to get their attention. However, they just stared at the hole in the ground. I stepped between them and the hole to catch their eye, but they looked right through me.

The bagpipes blew out a sorrowful noise that sounded like my mom sobbing. Once the player squeezed a new note, I realized it had really been my mom crying. She was there too, in the front, next to my baby brother.

Zak is two and half, and he is a “handful.” Mom says that I used to be a “handful” too, but I’m not really sure what that means. Since Zak runs everywhere, all the time, I guess it means having a lot of energy. It’s hard to believe I used to be a “handful.” I haven’t had energy in a long time, but today I do. I have an endless supply of energy. I feel like I could run a marathon, swim a million laps, and fly to the moon. I twirled around so my dress flew and fluttered.

Zak’s small hand touched the hem of my dress as it spun near him, and I stopped.

“Hi, Zakky.”

He smiled.

“What’s going on here?”

He continued to smile and looked up at Mama.

Mama looked down at Zakky and me like she always did. She smiled and ran her hand through Zak’s hair.

I said, “Hi Mama,” and she continued to smile at Zak.

“Mama? What’s going on here?”

She looked up and past me to the open ground.

I slid between her and it to be noticed.

“Mama?”

She started to cry.

“What’s wrong? Don’t cry. Look. I’m all better. I can run and jump. I even skipped. I feel amazing!”

Another tear rolled down her face.

“Oh, Mama. Don’t cry. It’s wonderful! Look.” I twirled around to show off my energy and my dress. “See. I’m all better. No more needles; no more medicine; no more sleeping!” I giggled.

She smiled. Just a little at first. A corner of her mouth went up, involuntarily, and she blew her nose.

I pointed at her and laughed. “Gotcha! You were blubbering, and I got you to smile.” I laughed harder while jumping up and down.

A man from the crowd walked forward, and from behind me, gathered a handful of dirt and threw it in the hole. That was weird.

Zak grabbed my hand and tried to pull away from Mama. She pulled him closer to her thigh but continued to smile at me.

“Really, Mama, I could run and run and run. All day for the rest of eternity. It feels terrific!”

Another person threw dirt in the hole while everyone formed a line behind them.

“Matter of fact, I can barely stand still. I just want to jump and skip and … be a handful.” I laughed. “You know what? I think I’ll do a somersault! A real somersault! Maybe, even a cartwheel.” I bent over to laugh harder.

“Remember when I tried a cartwheel, and I landed on Roscoe? Oh, my! He sure was mad!”

Zak tugged on my dress.

“Yes, Zakky? What?”

He smiled up at me.

I smiled back at him, then turned back to Mama.

“Can I go? I want to run. Can I?”

She looked straight into my eyes and whispered, “Yes.”

“Oh Mama! Thank you. Thank you!”

The last person in the line threw dirt and left as my Mama and Zak stepped up to the hole. I really wanted to run, but I knew I should say good-bye first. As they stood looking down into the darkness, I knelt between them and told Zak, “Go ahead, throw some in. This is one of the few times you can throw dirt, and no one will stop you.” I smiled, and he did as well.

Looking as if he did not believe me, I reached forward and put my hand on the pile of earth.

“Come on. Grab some.”

He squatted down and grabbed two tiny fistfuls while laughing, and Mama knelt by my other side. Her thin fingers shook as they entered the soil and wrapped around her last good-bye.

“One,” I said to Zak, “two,” I said to Mama, “three!” I yelled as we tossed our handfuls into the grave.

It felt good to be out of the hospital bed. It felt wonderful to be here with them. I almost wanted to stay … almost, but I also really, REALLY wanted to run.