When you came back

The sky was dark. The only sound was the rain hitting the cold wet metal roof top. It made rough rhythmical sounds. Some sounded like soft dings, while others were loud short bangs. And occasionally a loose branch would grow weak and fall, hitting the metal with a loud crack and thud before it slid off. It might have scared someone, but I was the only one around to hear it for miles. There were no other log cabins around, just mine. It was hidden in the thick forest, surrounded by mighty firs, and strong pines that stood tall. All the trees seemed to close in all the sound and muffle it. So even if there was another soul out in the woods, they wouldn't hear me, and me them. But that was one of the things I liked about being out here. there was no one else around. I truly got to see what it was like to be alone with nature.  

It wasn't strange for me to be sitting outside in the rain in the middle of night time, despite how weird it may sound. But it was how I got my best thinking done, which was important for my job. I was an author, and a good one at that. And whenever I had writer's block I found being outside helped clear the mind. no matter what the weather. In fact sometimes the storms helped me to think. I would take in all the extra sensory, and throw it into a story. Like one of my best selling books, "Through the Heart", had one of it's best scenes written due to me being outside in a thunderstorm. How else to describe the fear a woman lost in the woods during a hurricane, then to throw yourself into a lightning storm surrounded by tall trees? Some may think the method madness, but it worked for me and I stuck by it. 

Tonight I didn't sit in the rain over a book though. I sat in my fraying wicker chair for peace. I had been trying to fall asleep, but my mind kept racing back to that phone call I got right before bed. And I was in no mood to answer the question that had been asked. But I also didn't want to think about it. So after what felt like several hours, I got up put on my rain coat, and stepped outside. 

   It must have been 1 O clock in the morning, but I didn't care. The moggy air of early July mixed with the cool rain helped take the edge off of me. I closed my eyes, and breathed steadily as I let the rain run down my cheeks. I had the hood of the coat down, and my black hair was plastered down my neck by the rain. I could feel water that escaped the coat running idly down my back, giving me goosebumps on , and off. I knew by the time I was back inside I would be soaked, and would need to take a warm shower, and put on dry warm clothes before going to bed. But that didn't matter now. 

   Even as wet as I was I could feel the fat droplets hit me, with a small bead of coldness before they joined the river going down my skin. I could taste the slight sweetness of a summer rain on my wet lips, when I licked them. Between the pounding of rain on my roof I could her the shuffle of wet leaves being hit, and broken branches falling in the far away distance. When I opened my eyes slightly I could see beads of rain on my lashes, and they felt heavy and weighed down until I blinked them off. And even though it was dark, and the heavy rain blurred everything I could still see rays of moonlight escaping the blanket of dark clouds. And the lights from my house offered a warm orange glow, that seemed to shimmer in the rain. And slowly I could feel my water logged clothes getting heavier, and my bedroom slippers getting squishy...it probably wasn't the best idea to wear those outside. 

    Slowly I could feel myself coming to ease, and eventually I stood up and made way for indoors. Knowing I would come back as a walking puddle I had left a fresh clean towel folded by the front door. I place the wet raincoat on the front door's doorknob outside, so it could drip dry on the porch. Then i picked up the towel wrapping it as tightly as I could around myself, and wet clothes. I took my dripping slippers off, and went to my laundry room. Once there I placed the slippers, and my wet clothes in the washer, and tightly wound the towel around my hair on top of my head. I honestly cared not if my Orange tabby cat, Boris, would be offended by my nudity. So walking into my bathroom I took a quick hot shower, put on a tank top and shorts, and climbed into bed. Shortly after I closed my eyes I was asleep, and didn't think a wink about that call. 

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    When I was a little kid I had so many memories with my Dad in them. And as far as I can remember they were all good. Playing in the yard with my two older siblings, while he did yard work, and he would stop so often to join us. Even if it meant messing up his work, or delaying the process. Jumping in leave piles with us, that he took hour gathering. Spraying us with the hose in the summer, as he washed his car. Climbing the trees with us, even though he was suppose to be pruning the branches. Picking blackberries off the bushes, and eating them with us, instead of mowing. He said the work could always wait, because the time with his three favorite girls was worth putting off the work.

     And there were far many more memories of him, that it was hard to summarize the best ones, or even the most important ones. Because the truth was, they all were great, and they each had a special place in my heart.

     So when I was twelve, and someone at the front office at school told me that my mom was here to pick me up in the middle of the school day I knew something was up. Mom never randomly just took us out of school. Not even for a doctors appointment. She would always try and schedule those late, so we barely missed any class, if any. So when I saw my Mom all puffy eyed and quiet when I walked up to her, and my two older twin sisters stood next to her with the same worried and confused expression I wore, I got scared. I tried to ask mom what was going on, but she just shook her head and ushered us all out. My sisters, and I kept eyes each other trying to speak through our minds. We all were asking the same question: What was going on? And why was mom being quiet? She never was this quiet.

    It wasn't until we got into the SUV that she turned around in her seat, and finally really looked at us. I remember her eyes staring at us, but they didn't seem focused. And it made me scared. I remember my sister, Kathie, taking a hold of my hand. And then mom said words that seemed to just echo in my head for hours. "Girls this is very important, and it is very hard for mommy to say, so listen close. Cause I don't think I will be brave enough to say it again. Something awful happend today. Your father...he was driving to work this morning...like every other day...and there was a terrible accident. Something with a semi trunk...I don't know. All I know is...it was very bad....and they couldn't save him. Babies...daddy is gone." And she said it with a weak voice, but it was steady and clear. And then she started crying. I don't remember if I said anything, but I did remember the confusion, and then the pain. And then I was shaking and crying. We all were. And we held each other, and we sat in the SUV like that for a long time. For the rest of the school year I couldn't look at that parking spot without thinking of that day. 

    The first year was a little rough, and took some adapting. But after some time we were all able to get back to some kind of form of normal. And as the years went by we moved along, and my mom remarried a man named Tim. Tim was a great guy, and loved my sisters and I. And we loved him. He was able to fill the role of our father fairly well. Sure it was never the same kind of love a little girl could have for her real father. And no one could truly replace my dad, and his smile. But it was something. Father's days got better, the father figure that liked to scare first dates with crazy questions in high school was played off well, and he even walked my sister, Kathy, down the aisle at her wedding. Everything went on, and i din't forget my father, but I learned how to live without him. Life was normal again.

     But now as a thirty year old me, that was a successful author, that visited her family several times a year, had my world shaken, and torn apart. It all started with that phone call around 8:30 p.m.. 

     I had been watching TV when I got a phone call from my mother. It wasn't uncommon for her to call at night on a weekend, so I answered the same cheery way i always did, "Hi Momma, how are you? You just catch me watching your favorite show, The Golden Girls. What's up?"

     Her end of the line was quiet for some time, and I began to wonder if she butt dialed. Right before I was about to ask her, she spoke in a quiet and paused voice. "Jenny, darling...I have some news. It's big...and unbelievable...honestly it is hard to say over the phone. i still don't quite believe it myself...it's a lot to take in. It feels like a dream." Her voice was so slow, and careful i thought maybe she was sleep talking.

     I turned the TV off, and softly laughed, "Ok mom, you are acting weird. What is it? Is it good news? Are you sure you aren't sleeping right now?"

     I heard her lightly blow out a breath on her line, and there was a long pause again. "No...I'm wide awake. Believe me...this news is huge. And it is good...unbelievable...unrealistic...I still can't comprehend how"

      I furrowed my eye brows, and held the phone closer to me, "Ok Mom, spit it out already. If it's as good as you say it is, then I'm a little surprised you aren't singing it to me."

     Normally this is where she would laugh, but her voice got soft...almost caring. Like I was a little girl she was trying not to spook. "Ok right...now are you sitting down? You might want to sit down for this." 

      I looked at my phones screen confused, as if she could see my face. "Yes mom, I am sitting. Now spill. You are making the suspense last too long, and I should know. After all, I am an author."

      "Right," she said then cleared her throat, "Jenny baby, your father...he is alive." 

      I don't know why, but I busted out laughing. It took me a little while to get myself together. My mom had to say my name three times, before I was composed enough to speak. I was smiling big now, "Oh dang mom, that was a good one! I was definitely not expecting that. Did Tim put you up to this? You have gotten way better at your acting. You really sounded like you had some crazy news. Let me talk to Tim. I have to congratulate him on his good work teaching you." 

      But mom wasn't laughing. There was a short take in of breath, and I swore she rolled her eyes. But what she said next told me otherwise, "Jen, I'm not joking. I know it is hard to believe...and I'm sure you have questions. I know I did...here. Maybe you will believe me if you talk to him." 

       I sat there with a smile on my face, waiting for Tim to come on. After I heard a shuffle of the phone being passed over I spoke, "Hey Tim! You must really be the master of jokes, because mom has never been this good! You will have to teach me sometime. Maybe you can help me write a comedy."

       There was a long pause, and I was waiting for Tim's loud laugh to interrupt the peace, but it didn't. Instead another voice came on. A voice that transported me back to a time when I was a little girl eating ice cream, while sitting on her daddy's lap. "Hey Jenny-bug, it's so good to hear your voice. And you became a writer like you always dreamed. I hope I can read one of your books one day." 

        I was quite, as my phone dropped from my hand, and my mouth opened, but no sound came out. Jenny-bug...only my father ever called me that. And that voice...even over the phone, and years of not hearing it I knew it was his. And he use to always say he couldn't wait to read my books. My heart started to pound. And I could hear the voice still, he was asking if I was there. I picked the phone off the couch, and held it in a death grip. I wanted to say Dad, or Daddio, like I use to call him. But I hadn't called anyone that in years...it felt like another language. Instead I barely whispered, "I'm here..."

        His voice was just as I remembered. It didn't even sound aged. His voice was gentle, and i could hardly hear him through the buzzing sound that formed in my ears. "I know it is hard to understand...maybe even believe, but I'm alive. A lot happend in those eighteen years, and I am so sorry. I wish I could have seen you girls all grow up, but I had to take care of something important, and I wasn't allowed to tell anyone the truth. I know you must have a lot of questions, and i would be more than happy to answer them. If we could meet in person I would love that. I would understand, if you needed time to think though. This is a lot to throw at you." his voice grew stronger the more he talked. But for me the buzzing sound kept growing, 

       The little girl in me that missed her father, and his hugs wanted to run to him right now, and ask him a million questions. But the women that learned to make it through her grief, and moved on past her father's death was hesitant. Did I even know this man? he said he was my father, and sounded like him. But what man would put his family through this. I wanted to be angry, I wanted to be happy, but mostly I wanted to cry. Eventually I worked up the nerve to speak, "I don't think I can talk right now...this is all too much. I just need to think. Can I please talk to mom again?" I shoved the little girl inside of me that wanted to rant on about everything thing to her dad. 

      I could hear a hint of disappointment on his voice, but he replied, "Alright Jenny-bug, I can respect that. Just know I love you." 

      Hearing those last three words hammered at the dam that held all my emotions of the loss of my father, and threatened to crack open. I had to squeeze my eyes shut to prevent tears. After another shuffled sound mom was back on the line. I could tell she was trying to sooth me now. "Hey baby, I know. I felt the same way. It's a lot." 

      I nodded even though she couldn't see me, "Yea..." then I blew out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. "I don't even...how? It doesn't matter. I think I need time to think...alone." 

      Her soothing voice continued, "I know. I did too. I guess I'll call your sisters now. But call me when you figured it all out. You father would love to see you. And I would too. I think we all should get together." 

      I knew she was right, but right now I wanted to hid and act like this never happened. How could something I had been day dreaming about everyday as a kid now be scaring me so badly as an adult? "Ok. I'll let you know my answer when I fully know it myself. "I wanted to ask her how she was, but suddenly felt to emotionally drained to ask.

       "Alright, take care baby. I love you." She said

       It was easy to say, I love you too, back to her. And then I let the call drop, and that's when all the thoughts started racing. And it was then that I found myself outside.

That was when I realized even though it was dark outside, there was a new brightness starting inside me. The darkest part of my childhood now was being brought to light. There was hope.