Two Wait Three

The little boy looked up at me with big eyes. His curls fell almost to his lashes and I wanted to help him, but I couldn’t. His arms extended up to me in supplication, and their sweetness hit me like a spring breeze, their baby chubbiness just beginning to give way to little boyhood.

The spring air, the smell of cut grass, the flowers waving in the breeze, all belied what was coming. He’d seen it, he knew he needed help. And I was the only one around. But I wasn’t old enough to be a mother, and I had never even been a big sister. I had no way of meeting his needs. I had barely reached the age to see to my own.

We looked at each other for long minutes, his needs warring with my inabilities, but at last I gave in and picked him up. He was solid, like a sack of flour, but lighter because he was alive with purpose. He put his hand on my shoulder and exhaled. We may not be prepared for what was coming, but at least we’d face it together. 

The road stretched before us and we had no choice but to start walking. Running was out of the question, solid as he was. But equally out of question was having him tackle the road beside me, his little legs stood no chance. And we stood even less of a chance if we moved at his precious pace, hurry though he might.

He whispered in my ear as we walked.

“They’ll come by nightfall.”

I nodded. The wise woman had already told me that much. Before she disappeared. 

“They won’t be nice.”

I breathed deeply. I had suspected as much.

“They’ll take us if they find us. Can you hide us?”

I shook my head. That just wasn’t one of my abilities. I had never been able to hide.

He nodded. “It’s okay.” He patted my head then put his hand back on my shoulder. We continued our walk in silence as there was nothing we could do but see how far we could go before nightfall.

The sun dipped and the horizon turned pale, then gold and fiery pink, and he laid his head on my shoulder. His sweet little fingers curled into my hair at the nape of my neck, and I was astounded as protectiveness washed over me.

They were on their way. They would not be nice. I had maybe until nightfall. 

But his curls and his sleepy eyes and his sweet little hand spoke of trust. Trust I hadn’t earned and couldn’t hope to. But they filled me with hope and purpose nonetheless.

His once alert lightness fell slowly to heaviness, the limp trust of the vulnerable. And I held him. Walking, aching, but ignoring the searing knives that seemed to now spike up into my feet. My side ached as it sought to balance the unaccustomed ache of carrying a load for so long. But I couldn’t bear to disturb his sleep, and the lengthening shadows of his eyelashes across his cheek told me we didn’t have much time left.

I wanted to stop. And sit. The relief would be overwhelming. But what if we still stood a chance? What if my plodding steps would make the last bit of difference? What if they would carry us to the dawn?

I don’t know exactly what I expected. But night fell and there were no explosions, no poundings, no hoofbeats or drums sounding an arrival.

I could no longer see where my foot would fall. I could no longer see the path. My eyes had adjusted, but the way was just not clear enough, nor the night bright enough, for me to see what lay before me. The whisper of the night stayed quiet. Nothing but the breeze in the trees and the whisper of the grasses. Not even an owl hooted, not a cricket chirped. Perhaps that was the warning bell.

At what point do we give up and just wait without motion? Is that ever the way to await anything? Or must we ceaselessly pursue motion until we no longer have a choice? I plodded on, but now at barely a shuffle.

Somewhere in the middle of the night I collapsed. But he didn’t wail, he just rolled softly, and crawled back over to me. He put my head on his little legs and patted my hair. Before long he must’ve fallen asleep again, keeled over, too tired to need my shoulder for rest. Were we still in the middle of the roadway? Had we wandered into a field? I felt the questions drift over my consciousness as we lay there, and as my mind drifted back and forth between this world and the other. Which one was real? Where was I and where was I going? The world was an ocean, and I didn’t know if I was sinking to the bottom or riding the swells.

The first rays of dawn told me we had made it through the night. But did that mean we had escaped one possible fate, or just delayed it? Was there any chance we were now on the road to a different tomorrow? 

I saw a shadow coming at us, from far off in the direction we were headed. I sat up, squinting, hoping it was what I thought it was.

When she was finally close enough to see, I stood and lifted my arms to the sky, throwing back my head and stretching my thankfulness up to the sky and beyond. 

She was beautiful. And she had finally found me.

She ambled towards us, shaggy brown fur glinting in the morning sun, her shaggy waves catching the morning rays as they bounced. She lifted her head and our eyes met. She roared, and I roared back. 

The roar awakened him, and he stood too, taking my hand. Wide eyed, he watched her amble towards us. He hadn’t known this was what I could do. 

She may not answer all of our problems, but at least now we were three.