White Gold

Her rocking chair creaks as she pierces the needle through the white lily petal making a flower crown for all of her grandchildren. Her sweet lavender scent has overtaken any other smell in my house. Her face is as smooth as a new pot in the process of being made in a pottery wheel, making anyone forget she was a ninety-year-old woman. The sun falls on her silver curls flawlessly and her laugh tickles mine to join her in unison.

That’s my observation of my grandmother, however, the townsfolk see her as a dead lady and her granddaughter as an insane woman fresh out of a coma who pretends to live with her grandmother. Although she doesn’t speak to me anymore I think it’s because these unfiltered wits have driven her over the edge.

My memory of life before the coma is very faint and one that no one would not wish to recall. According to my in-laws, who have unreasonably cut relations with me, I went into the coma due to an accident where I was knocked by a bus as I escaped the mental asylum, after receiving the news of my husband, Guan’s passing which was caused by an incurable disease.

I keep having blurry visions of myself in a dark theater with a slate grey ceiling. In it, I am surrounded by several people around me in light blue uniforms and black and white striped captain hats. A woman on my right yelling “PUSH!” “PUSH!” and “Doctor, by the looks of it only one will survive,” she says with a surrendering tone. If this is true then it explains the peculiar scar on the lower part of my abdomen.

I always aspired to venture into the Physics department. The perks of light, waves, and sound astounded me. The possibility that there are frequencies of sounds around us that we cannot hear but animals can. Perhaps there is a parallel universe that animals hear but we cannot. A sixth-dimensional world past our limitations, with unlimited knowledge. I loved reading about the supernatural world because being in some type of contact with a higher or rather more hidden place made me feel more special leaving bookmarks in my soul. I've always felt that there must be more out there, it's as if right now we are looking through a keyhole while a train passes outside the door only seeing parts of it; the beginning, middle, and end, but only the one standing on the roof of the house can see entire picture. 

That explains the drawers with heaps of paranormal books that they can barely close. I loved taking in the scent of each dusty book and gently turning over each page, how I wish I could do the same with my own life. I really had no shelf control.

As I stare at my collection wishing that these visions came to reality, I have an ill-feeling. My attention is driven to the window where every week a little mysterious homeless girl comes and waves to my grandma and runs away. I let out a small laugh and go back to the kitchen to garnish my cinnamon rolls with icing sugar. I hear a loud thud. A book has fallen on the floor.

I pick it up and try to find the empty space in the drawer from where it fell, however, there is not an inch of space for another book to possibly fit. I check the spine to see the title and it says “Ancient souls”. Even though I’ve lost an astronomical part of my memory, this is a book I have never come across. The author’s note says “Do people make you feel demented for having certain beliefs? Can you see people no one else does? Then know that you have a gift of seeing the dead, but when the realization of them being dead meets your intellect they will vanish out of your physical existence leaving behind a symbolic powder.”

“It can't be true, it can’t be”. I repeat to myself.

I rush to grandma's chair and I am startled by what I see. On the chair lies white gold dust. White gold was what our ancestors used to sell for they discovered it in a cold cave up the Longhill Mountain. I have decided to make my way to the very place I wished to never visit, the cemetery. There it is right in front of me, the second grave as you enter and engraved on the tombstone, it says “JOANNA MARTIN, MAY 9TH 1916- JANUARY 23RD 2003.” It was true her passing had already occurred and my mere imagination of her was what I saw in my living room.

“Minera, my Mineral water!” A similar voice calls out. “ GET OUT      OF MY  HEAD!” I wail at myself. “ MINERA YOU CAN HEAR ME”. “Is that actually you?” I cry even harder and my tears fall on the dry grave. 

“If you could stop sobbing for a quick second I have something to tell you, but I’m still mad no one visited my grave even once in the last 3 years. Your in-laws you must keep away; they are not those who hope and desire for your best interest”

“They stopped talking to m-”. “Hush! I said and just listen carefully. You were pregnant and they were not very pleased that you would take Guan’s money which your child would rightfully inherit. They chanted a sacred spell where the child’s soul would leave its feet when given birth to”.

 “I have a child?! Where is the poor thing?” I abruptly interrupt. “Let me finish, will you?!” I silently nod to let her continue. “ The curse however was accompanied with a power where you can see the spirits of the deceased as long as your mind has the illusion they’re still alive and I think you have recently discovered this.."

Bits of the tombstone fall. Someone was hiding behind this whole time. Before I can speak I'm left in revelation, it’s like I’m looking into a de-aging mirror. I finally fathom that my daughter visited me every week at the window. Anger overpowers me. There possibly can't be any curse if my child is still here right in front of me. I slowly reach my hand out to take hers but she refrains. After much convincing, she nods to let me take her to a dining restaurant.

As we walk on the street I see how her clothes are ripped. Her skin tone paler than death. She struts side to side just like her father. We take the right turn on Hevoc St to enter Diagon’s Pizza place.

I pull out the chair for her and reassure her it's safe to have a seat. We share the menu as they forgot to put two because of high demand. She gives me a puzzled look when I point at one of the options indicating she can’t read. I read them out loud for her. “Excuse me ma’am” the waitress says. “May I take this chair?, since you’re not using it" pointing at where my child is sitting. I turn back to look her in the face and say “What do you mean? There is a child here!”. “Ma’am are you sure?”. I look back to see the sight of her disappearance leaving a dash of white gold dust on the oak wood chair.