Mr. Greene

“Two please.” 

“Welcome back on the U.S.S. Michigan Mr. Greene. I have to say I can't believe it’s that time of the year again for you and your wife.” responded the clerk in a familiar matter for he has known Mr. Greene for the past twenty six years. When the calendar strikes May 5th Mr. and Mrs. Greene  have created a tradition for the two to celebrate not only their anniversary but also Ms. Greene birthday by enjoying a simple, yet majestic ferry ride on the U.S.S. Michigan, a tradition that has lasted for thirty one years now. No matter the cost, no matter the weather, tradition is tradition for the Greene family.

“Ah... Mr. Campell.” responded the soft spoken Mr. Greene showcasing his delicate old smile, “I can’t believe it’s already May 5th, honestly, me and my wife have almost forgot since time is not bounded by law allowing it to have no speed limit.” exclaimed Mr. Greene.

“Or… we’re both climbing in age?” Mr. Campell fired back in a jokingly manner.

It was a perfect day to enjoy a peaceful ferry ride on the river. The water was calm and gentle as if it was in a deep slumber dreaming of what it would be like to be born an ocean, the trees rocked along to the songs of the southern winds, it was Fall, so of course the leaves began to join in adding their own musical elements to nature’s tune. It was around seven o'clock with the sun opened up  into the sky gushing it’s warm, soft orange and red unto the clouds above, it was as if the scene Mr. and Mrs. Green witnessed thirty one years ago. Times may have changed, but the beauty has not.    

“That will be twelve dollars Mr. Greene.” stated Mr. Campell

“Of course, of course. Did you know these tickets used to cost two dollars for two people?” exclaimed Mr. Green while handing the clerk three fresh five dollar bills. 

“ I wish those days are today, your total change is three dol-”

“You should know this by now Campell you put those three dollars in your pocket, we have been doing this for almost three decades now.” asserted Mr. Greene while slipping the clerk an extra few dollars.

“My thanks Mr. Greene.”

The clock struck 7:15 p.m. and right on que the bells on the ferry signaled the ship’s departure into the still sleeping  river. The clerk and the elderly couple shared their final words until the two rushed into the ship as if they were kids hearing the bells ring on the last day of school, running into the hands of Summer. 

“Enjoy the boat ride Mr. Greene!” shouted Mr. Campell. 

As the couple explored the little ferry boat as if it was not their thirty-first time aboard the little ship, nothing much has changed since their first time visiting. The bar still offered the same drinks, the halls were decorated with the same paintings by the same artist, the tables in the ballroom were still arranged in the same way with all the tables surrounding a center stage for performers and musicians to amaze the crowds. Mr. Greene stumbled upon the bow of the boat where guests are treated to luxury music along with nature’s beauty. As he pulled up two chairs from behind him he could hear the delicate songs of the piano echoing throughout the ship. Beautiful, no. Majestic, maybe or euphoric. As the ship began to head South  the soothing winds began to invade the bow of the ship embracing not only the old ferry but also the guests who were blessed to be on the bow. 

“John Field’s Nocturne No. 5 in B flat Major.” announced the pianist. 

As the piano began to sing with perfect harmony, Mr. Greene was caught in a brief moment of untainted happiness. The clouds painted in a soft coat of orange with a  splash of fiery red, the crashing of the slumbering river against the sides of the boat, the sun slowly fading away behind the clouds, the winds dancing with the leaves, this is God’s perfect painting. Nature itself. Directly above the boat was a flock of birds, the type was unknown to Mr. Greene, but as he gazed upon the innocent beings a thought occurred to the old man.    

Is this what Heaven sounds like... looks like... feels like... is this the meaning of perfection, questioning this to himself , Mr. Greene rose from his chair and took a deep breath of fresh air as a tear began to escape from him. As he looked over the ship his memories began to fill the river, witnessing the day he met Mary Kaitlyn, the day his first son Phillip Greene III was born, the day his mother passed away,  the day he became a grandfather, and the war. All of it came to him again as he, in his own opinion, experienced his first “perfection”.  

As the piano slowly began to fade away reaching its end a final breeze overswept Mr. Greene, this breeze, however,  felt warm, familiar, like home for some reason. He turned his body back to the two empty chairs he placed for him and his wife with no beside him, or behind him, no one to embrace him. Walking towards the piano as the keys screamed it’s final harmony while handing the musician a hefty tip leaned over and whispered to the musician, “ That my friend is the closest thing to perfection… my wife played that song, it was her favorite.” muttered Mr. Greene. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed the performance. Is your wife with you?” asked the pianist as he began to put the piano to rest. 

“Well… no, not really. She is, but at the same time she isn’t.” 

Slowly walking back to the bow of the small, delicate ferry ship Mr. Greene took his final sip of his Rum and Coke and gazed upon the clouds. The sun has fallen asleep and only the bright, erie moon oversaw the ship from above. It’s been ten years since Cancer took her away… ten long agonizing years, Mr. Greene thought to himself as he leaned over the ship to witness the river’s elegant dance. 

“Happy anniversary to my beautiful wife… and a happy birthday to my angel. I love you.” Mr. Greene whispered to himself as the ferry approached the harbor with Mr. Campell waving from the shore welcoming his return from his great voyage.

Tradition is tradition to the Greene family, no matter the cost, no matter the weather, no matter who is lost.