Spring Cleaning

Spring Cleaning

Rosy sunlight dripped behind misty trees as I made my way to the edge of the backyard and breathed in the wet, mildew of natural, earthy decay. Sharp chirps of tired birds ready for a rest followed my footsteps across the low the slippery waves of dirty white and leftover red from last fall. Mud squelched beneath humus padded beneath snow as I walked further into the trees, avoiding the deer droppings and orange snow. 

Hmm, the coyotes must have been hard at work this winter, I thought as I quickly passed the frozen remains of a gored deer. 

My thin shoes quickly soaked up the melting snow like a sponge, trapping the cold and damp inside once warm socks.

Packed ice shards cut at my ankles, and I felt the cold inside me as I let out puffs of visible breath. Spring didn’t seem like an opportunity for renewal this year. Slender ash and stark oak remained barren as they had for all of that winter as the flower seeds that lay beneath the snow raced toward the surface at a snails pace. 

I paused at the base of a great ash tree atop a wide plateau, sparsely dotted with much smaller ashes, and tender baby trees of a species that I didn’t have the plant-life knowledge to identify. 

I was in a middle-ground. Between a shadowed old farmhouse in a quiet valley, and a greening, but darkening horizon. Which would be my future? Where was my past? I could turn anywhere I wanted, and there it would be. I turned to the tree and rest my head against its damp armor, and kicked at the ground in a wild effort to help anything living. My focus was on those sleeping things that weren’t ready to show themselves just yet. I was going to help unlock potential, that’s what I wanted to do as danced frantically around the roots, and in my frenzy I lost focus and hurt myself.

Badly.

I kicked something solid and screamed in pain. If my toes weren’t numb before they sure were now with another dose of ice down my boot. 

A black flurry of feathers fell from above as I scared a murder of preening crows. I watched the dark thing flutter down on the mere force of gravity, undeterred by competing winds to rest atop a cornerstone before an unexpected wind swept it whirling out of sight and away. 

I knelt down, brushing away the snow from a low barrier and uncovered a bolted storm cellar door.

Cute, I thought to myself; a bolted storm cellar in a forest. A choice to pursue a curiosity or do nothing and leave it be? I distantly remembered some of the locals telling me about an old storm cellar where one of the previous owners had kept money during the Great Depression. Decisions. I had never been very good at making them, although I always did so with deliberate care. I think the realtor would have said just about anything to get me to buy the house. I always tried to stay lukewarm in interviews and meetings, but I guess my big city life hadn’t sat well with her as she took me through a series of rundown, but private homes. 

The next thing that remembered, I stood deep inside a tunnel sloping downward to an indeterminate sounds far away. I had gone too far, and had to turn back to the light. Swiveling around, I held my flashlight out in front of me and walked onward for a long time. The hard rubber soles almost quiet on the stony floor.

The darkness was peaceful then. It became the heavy blue blanket that she had lain under for the cold winter months as I watched snow fall from the couch beyond the sunroom with a warm laptop on my knees. The quiet days turned dark as winter set in, and disappointment was an uninvited ghost that I conjured up from a seance gone so wrong by missed directions and too many spooks.

Funny how the time changed and childish fears failed to register anymore. I had been immunized, becoming apathetic to a strange tragedy that not everyone would know. I had gone beyond death this winter feeling the cold sense of disappointment that accompanies things not working out the way they were supposed to despite the odds of success, despite, despite, despite. 

The light grew brighter up ahead as I walked on, being careful not to slip on the sinking incline. I must have been nearing the entrance of the storm cellar again. I would see the rotten shelf just beneath the rusted bronze door. The other shelves would be lined with foggy glass jars sealed tight with rubber lids. There would be empty crates by the stairs that held only a few rat carcasses, and the sun would stream down. Maybe even a few extra stars would shine in the sky as well, and I could go to my bed sleeping well that night in a clean house that I had worked hard to take care of. 

I was so sure that I would be right, but instead I found myself short of breath. Frustrated as I stepped into the next chamber. Before me did not sit a claustrophobic natural refrigerator with a way out, but instead I found myself in a wide open cavern with a flame hovering above a thin crack in the center of the room. High above and all around stalagmites and stalactites forced their way into existence. 

I was in a mouth, I thought. The mouth of a gnashing, wild animal; teeth and hot breath included in that dank underworld that smelled of damp and natural gas. 

As soon as I set foot on that cave floor, I swear, I saw the great flame spit sparks into the air. The sparks fell to all parts of the cavern, one rushed right over my head, and as I dodged, I saw that from those sparks sprang something else, running towards me down the tunnel, a wild thing human in shape, but made of smoke and fire. It charged at me, hands out in a ready embrace to choke me and I dodged it at first. I ran away towards the flame, but then through the darkness.

The thing stood there by the flame, staring at me, but when I moved a muscle it came after me. I leapt to the other side of the room back into the dark until it came after me yet again. I don’t know how long we ran like that, but my limbs soon felt afire and I was sick of this harassment. I was going to get to that tunnel no matter the cost. So I ran, I ran forward not thinking about the heat from the thing, not caring if I had to run through it on fire. 

Not caring how hard I had to fight, how much energy I had to use to get my way. I would not let some enchanted spark stand in my way. 

I rushed, and it rushed at me, grabbing my wrists with a white hot grip. I was stunned at how it hurt, but with a rush of adrenaline I pushed through, throwing it aside and back to the inferno from whence it came.

I was surprised at what a solid mass it was, not nearly as difficult to grapple with and certainly not immune to a punch or two. 

It drifted away into nothing as I threw myself into a stone wall, searching for a way up to the surface world.

There would be no going back. At least, not right away.

Crumbling to the stone floor I felt the hurt that I had caused myself and grew angry at my loneliness and irresponsibility. My nerves quaked as my mouth grew tight before relaxing into weak sobs that splashed in hot raindrops to the base of glittering stalagmite’s, just visible by the firelight. 

Wind from outside swept through the cave and whipped at the fire. I watched as the great ball rose up, steadfast against the wind. But then I saw it waver; it was like a soft ball that was collapsing because it hit the ground and, like every other ball, had to go a little flat before it could roll on its merry way. 

I didn’t want that light to go out. I couldn’t let that light go out. 

And the flame steadied back to a soft glow, leaving much of the cavern in invisibility.

From somewhere beyond my sight, I heard a low humming sound and the familiar swish, swish of a broom or an animal tail flicking away at flies. The hum continued and I backed closer to the light. What would I do if I saw the face of some cave witch or a creature or even something more rational, I wasn’t sure. But as long as I stayed close to that fire, I would have been okay. 

The sound echoed around the chamber, sometimes near and sometimes far. Pausing and starting up again. I didn’t want to call out for fear that there was something there that didn’t want me. Something that would hurt me. 

It sounded almost cheery joined in with quick, whispery flutters and clicks every now and again. With quiet breath I listened and relaxed a little until I felt something poking at my leg. I looked down and there was a large hairy cave spider crawling up. 

I wrinkled my nose and was about to stamp my foot when an arm and rough broom swept out and brushed the spider from off my leg. 

I squeaked in fear as a grey thing stepped into the circle. A grey, fat thing with stringy black hair but pale just-human-enough eyes, and a long pulled-out jaw and two slits on the nose. We stared at one another before it opened its rounded alligator snout and spoke in an effeminate croak.

“Don’t mind the pet, dear. He doesn’t mean you any harm.” It spoke, pushing me out of the way and lighting a damp piece of moss in a bowl atop a stone club. The cave-dweller thrust its stick into the flame and brought a new flame away before retreating out of sight and lighting a new flame.

As the creature darted and danced, the extent of the great subterranean hall was revealed and it glittered with treasures that I had never imagined. Fur garments, computers, money, books or loose bits of paper only half covered, journals full of stories open to the last page, incomplete, all piled high amongst wooden chests studded with bronze. Then there were trinkets ever stranger: baby’s shoes, charm bracelets, cheap velvet ring boxes, and weapons of mass destruction. 

I scrunched my nose as the thing came back, this time with a broom, carving a way for it to walk over gold coins.

I turned back to look for the entrance through which I had come, and could barely see where the hole was. It had been smoothed over, or so it seemed, by the broom. Blurred into non-existence by the dust from the things broom. 

Was there no way out? I asked under my breath.

“Hmm?” The thing croaked, stopped, and looked back at me. “No dear, not by the way you came in at least. 

Perhaps this thing could be a friend, I thought.

“Please,” it said politely, toddling over, “Call me Ave.” It did not extend a hand, but blinked at me slowly. Black eyes boring into me. Reading every little expression that I may or may not have given off. “So, you want the way out, do you?” Ave repeated.

I nodded slowly, perhaps a little unsure of how to proceed with this cave-troll thing in front of me.

“Well, I can do that for you, but you must sit down with me and have some supper. I don’t think I’ve seen you before in my domain and want to be a good hostess.”

I did not argue, but instead followed her to a table in another room. It was carved with images that I barely recognized. Beneath a plate of glass topping the table was a high mountain, with many figures clamoring upwards in yearning. Ave took a seat at the other end, by the mountain peak. 

“I have something you want.” Ave claimed outright. “I have all the things that anyone can want, but I don’t know what it is that you need. So tell me. What has happened that left you crying on the floor of my hearth? What can I do for you?”

And so I told, and so Ave listened.  

I listed all the places where I went wrong, where I could have gone differently. “Perhaps if I had tried harder or tried differently, perhaps I would still have a job, health insurance, another human in my life who I cared about….If I had just spoken up, if I had been more open and honest, I wouldn’t have hibernated most of this winter with ghost conjured up by a seance of disappointments. The both of us waiting for some magic to dissipate it, and leave me to myself. 

I told Ave how January and February flew by in a blur with long hours dedicated to my one goal. I focused hard then, I focused harder than I had ever done so before until March approached my door bringing the luck to my door. I welcomed them like the oldest of friends and flew into a dizzying flurry of to-do’s. How I was set to start the spring with a new job in a far away city in the old country, and nothing to hold me back but a younger self’s wish for success, and my disappointments that I couldn’t fulfill the dream on time. 

“Ah, I see. So you want a way out.” It said matter-o-factly.

Wow, so smart, I thought. 

“Thank you. I have a way out for you, but you have to leave something behind with me. I don’t give anything away for free.” 

“What do you get out of it?” I asked aloud this time.

“I’m a collector.” It shrugged, “And from you, I want… your jacket. I want your jacket.” It nodded with firm certainty.

“And leave me to the cold of this dank cave, plus a walk in cold northern springtime?” 

“Well, what’s your alternative? There are many hallways in this place, and none of the ones you will come across will lead you to where you want to go, and without your tribute, I won’t tell you what you want to know” 

I bantered back and forth. The journey home could be long, and I would not die from exposure to the elements, but I was determined to get home. 

Ave remained immovable, determined to fight against my goal.

“What else could I give you to get out of here? What about a scarf? Would you take my scarf.”

Ave went quiet, thinking on the offer. 

“A scarf, and my gloves? I’ll even throw in some loose change.” 

Ave nodded. “I’ll take it. Leave your tribute on the table and follow me.” 

I followed the small creature back out by the hearth and between a narrow pathway that I had not traversed before and I could hear the rush of water up ahead.

A small boat was tied to the waterside, and Ave sent me on my way up the river. It would be a long journey, it had told me. But rest assured the boat would carry me in the way I needed to go. Until then, I had a long time to think. So I lay there on the bottom of the boat and watched the spotty ceiling and drifted into my own thoughts.

Why had I ever imagined success out in the mountainsides? The quiet dreams of romantic woodland creatures beneath the dark firs and spicy-smelling pine. All those nights she wished to curl up by the fireside on the patio with a lover had never been enough to live up to childhood imaginings. So I would keep moving until I found that place, that person, that job, that whatever that make would satisfy. 

Afterall, that’s a healthy way to deal with disappointment and failure, just keep it moving, right? 

Water roared around me, and I was overcome with a rush of water all around me and over me. I sat upright only to see a rushing glass curtain of water, and my boat was rushing at it. The boat began to fill under the crushing weight of the water pressure, and the wood broke from under me. 

I was going under, forced down into an endless chasm. That cave troll had tricked me.

I gulped down water, unable to rise I could only sink down into the cold. 

I couldn’t get up. I…I. I opened my eyes, and found myself merged with the established crevice in the couch like I had done for the past winter. Tears wet on my cheeks. 

I had spent all day inside, getting the house ready for the realtors to show, diminishing what I could while I was still early in the move: Old winter coats? I didn’t have a reason for any of them to take up space in my suitcase, I was moving far, far away from the cold.

Bathroom smelling of lime and ammonia; need to do it.

Air full of dust from fluffing the pillows and shaking the sheets; that still needed to be done.

It was time for a walk. I hadn’t been out much, and I wouldn’t have much opportunity to walk among pine trees much longer. But not yet, I wanted to enjoy the rosy sunset. There was some spring cleaning I needed to do.