The Allotment

Eileen sighed loudly. “Oh, why is it always me who stays past five on a Tuesday? I wish the intern would do HER work so I could just come in here and pull my client files. But, noooo, they are in huge piles on the floor – unfiled.” She entered the filing room and grabbed another stack. She took them to the work table and began looking for the last three files. “She can’t even alphabetize them. No wonder she went out for drinks with the guys from the tax team. We all know the guys in accounting have more fun even if they’re not as cute.” As she flipped over the folders, she made sure they each sounded her disgust as they were slammed on the table. “I’ve worked at this firm over thirty years, and you’d think they’d find someone competent to do the filing.” Her phone rang. “Hello?”

           “Mom, thank goodness. I lost your recipe card and I can’t find the picture on my phone, I need the recipe for your meatloaf. Simon invited his friends from work over for dinner and promised them your meatloaf.”

           As Eileen rattled off the recipe from memory, she found the last of the three folders and took them to her desk. She complained to her child about having to stay over at work, but her daughter hurried off from her rambling mother since company was coming and the meatloaf wasn’t made.

           Her long fingers clasped the folders as she delivered them back to the file room and put them in the pile on the floor. “I should file these. Maybe if I have time tomorrow. This really is very inefficient.” She turned out the lights and headed to her car.

           Eileen’s mouth was always in motion. She talked to herself, she talked to her friends and co-workers, strangers at the grocery store. She had a great social game, but it was difficult to have a conversation because she was always talking. She liked talking about politics, the weather and, of course, herself. She unlocked her grey SUV, started the car and engaged the Bluetooth setting and dialed Hazel.

           “Hello?” Hazel greeted.

           “Hi, there, friend. Did you get the text string from Bible study?” Eileen asked.

           “I did. Do you know what surgery Rona’s husband is having?” Hazel asked.

           Eileen quickly answered, “I hope he’s getting snipped. Her last two pregnancies were unplanned and I just don’t know how they can stay in the three bedroom house with eight kids.”

           “I know!” Hazel continued.

They chatted while Eileen drove home and the prayer request turned into a gossip forum.

When Eileen stepped up into her house from the garage, she dropped her keys and purse on the table and was taken aback by someone standing in her kitchen. She grabbed a steak knife from the dish drain and raised it. “Who are you? How did you get in my house?” She looked at the figure cloaked in a burgundy robe that was trimmed in gold. The woman’s long golden hair was falling from the hood of the cape as Eileen moved closer.

“My name is Rhema and I am the keeper of spoken words.” The figure explained. “Your words have woven a tapestry across time, but every thread has its limit. Eileen, I have been sent to give you a message; you have nearly exhausted your allotted word quota.”

Eileen backed away and put the knife down. “My what? What does that mean, my allotted quota?”

Rhema extended her hand and slipped a device that looked like a smartwatch on Eileen’s wrist. The number displayed was 328,629. “Your words are running out. When this counter hits zero, your voice will vanish forever.”

“But I love to talk. It’s who I am! I’m an attorney, words are my profession. Is nothing more I can do to” Eileen cut herself off. She watched the display go from 328,629 to 328606.

Rhema tilted her head. “Perhaps that’s part of the problem. You’ve forgotten the power of silence. Words can heal or wound, create or destroy. You’ve squandered them like a child eating a bag of candy.”

“But, but, I’ve shared laughter, comforted the grieving, cheered for my co-workers and encouraged my family. All with my words.” She was pleading with Rhema.

“That may be true,” Rhema nodded. “But you’ve also sown discord, spread rumors, you were mean to the Amazon delivery man today, and hurt those you love. Words are double-edged swords.”

Eileen looked at the numbers on her wrist. “Isn’t there any way you could give me more words? You know, like a bonus fifteen thousand?”

The lovely young blonde woman looked into Eileen’s green eyes and deeper into her soul. “The balance must be maintained.”

Panic engulfed Eileen as her brain raced. She remembered her daughter’s first words, whispered secrets with her late husband, and the countless conversations that had shaped her life. “What do I do?”

“Choose wisely.” Rhema smiled sweetly. “Speak when it matters. Listen when it counts. And remember, silence can be as eloquent as speech.”

The figure vanished in thin air and Eileen wondered it if was just her imagination. But the device on her wrist told her otherwise. She had to change.

The next day, she clamped her lips shut during the staff meeting even though she wanted to let loose about the poor job the interns are doing. She was very quiet at work and her co-workers began to see the change and were puzzled. As the days passed, Eileen began to think about the kind of life she wanted. One where words mattered. She wanted to teach others the importance of making your words count. When Friday came, she was down to single digits on the counting mechanism. Her last two words were “I quit” and she pushed her resignation letter across the large wooden desk to her boss. She smiled as she exhaled. Dressed in her nicest navy dress and matching heels, she whipped her dark locks over her shoulder as she turned to leave.

Rhema was waiting for her in the parking garage. “I’m proud of you, Eileen.” She held out a silver locket and put it around her neck. “This represents the voice you once had. Let it be a physical reminder of the power of your words.”

The dark-haired woman accepted the gift with a nod and smile.

The next day, Eileen hired a professional via email to sell her house and all that was in it. She packed up two boxes of clothes, dishes, towels, and a few other items to take with her to a cabin she was renting by the lake.

Each morning, she walked out her back door and sat on the rocking chair by the dock. She watched the most incredible sunrises where crimson and gold trickled through the sky, reminding her of Rhema. She gave thanks for the lessons she was learning. In silence, she found her freedom. Eileen finally allowed herself the time to listen to her soul.

When the sun began to set in pastel hues over the water, she would bring her notepad out and set it on her table by the rocker right next to her coffee. She began writing letters and telling those she loved how powerful their words were. Eileen listened to the birds as she stuffed the letters in envelopes. She mourned the years that simple things like bird chirps were drowned out by the need to hear her voice, make a statement, set the world straight. Her fingers calmly stroked the locket at her throat. She inhaled deeply of the crisp autumn air relishing the dampness that embraced those aromas.

Soon, her family and friends began to seek her council and vie for her wisdom. She happily answered every email and every letter. They were desperate to know about her change. Eileen smiled and would respond with her secret; “Cherish every word, even the unspoken ones.”