A Message In The Dark

Mom and Dad passed away six months ago today. Its just me and my big bro left to comb through all of their belongings. I look all around and I see imprints of Mom and Dad everywhere. Its not that they were pack rats or avid collectors of anything in particular. Its the array of unique individual items hanging or sitting on shelves collecting dust. A small glimpse of who they were. Travelers, adventurists, out to truly every moment and opportunity that came along. Mom and Dad never came home empty handed. Each bring something from their adventure that symbolized what the trip meant to them. For example the time they went to Ohio to the George Rogers Clark Park. A popular site for people to find their own civil war remnants. Dad was an explorer. He loved to dig. He should have been a cowboy in the days of the Gold Rush. So this particular hike, Mom said Dad crouched for nearly two hours digging in the water puddles under a huge stone where the creek water ran down You would have thought he found gold by the excitement in his voice telling us he had found a musket ball from the civil war. Mom's souvenir on the other hand was so simple. It was usually a piece of nature she found just walking along the way. She was able to see beauty in the things made by the great creator.It was a rock. with 4 different layers but each layer was a different type of rock. cemented together by the rapids of the water running over it at full force for over God knows how many years. Mom always marveled at the way you could compare nature to life's trials. The rocks that lie in the bed of the creeks smoothed over the years of the forceful push of the water over them..all stones surely started the way some still appeared. Rough edged. She would say that life is like the ever continuous unpredictable water that constantly pushed against these rocks. After many years of this the rocks were now rounded, smooth, sparkly and still weathering the storms. She would point out the trees as well. The trees still standing. Sure there are broken branches on some, she would point out, some missing branches that were now scattered on the earths floor. Through windstorms and heavy snow, treacherous rain,the tree stands tall. Opening its arms to a new sunrise each day. The seasons displaying hope with their bright shiny leaves in Spring and the bright beautiful colors of Fall.

We were raised appreciating the stories they would tell us of each item collected what they meant, and the grand adventures they had while finding them. One thing was indisputable. They loved each other. They loved us. In every way you could imagine. We never had much, but growing up we never felt deprived of anything.

My brother Ben, kicks in to full command mode the minute we start to pack boxes. One for the estate sale, which so far we've determined are the large furniture and appliances. A second box for a yard sale. Items that were still in good shape that other people could use. The third, a box for items we wished to hold onto. Its been difficult to distinguish between the two because all of a sudden, it seemed everything had sentimental value.

That afternoon went on it seemed forever. Reminiscing in the memories each item brought to mind. Laughing, crying, sharing our regrets, things wed would do differently. It was about 4 pm when we decided to break for supper. Pizza was the go to. Dad was not a pizza fan and Mom, she could eat pizza every day of the week if you had allowed her. The favorite was a local family diner right around the corner practically in our back yard. They knew our regular. Large pizza extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, green peppers onions, and black olives. The grease was running down my chin when my brother got up to get me a paper towel and knocked over his glass of coke onto the floor. Both tired and a little agitated he cursed up a storm and i went to grab the towels to clean up the mess. I notice the soda is running down the cracks on the wooden floor absorbing into the floor boards. I asked Ben to come look. The soda seemed to disappear into the floor. sure enough he bends down and sees the same thing. together we move the table to the side so we can pull the rug from underneath to make sure its not gone under the rug and that is what is making it absorb so quickly. when we move the rug we look at each other in disbelief. were we really seeing what we were seeing? It appeared to be a large square door cut right into the hard wood flooring. there was no knob or handle, just a large piece of the floor that looked like it was just so out of place. maybe there was some repairs that needed finished on the floor and instead of finishing the project completely, they threw a rug over it to mask the isssue until they could get back to it. we were intrigued. the soda had to be going somehwere. only we had no basement. where was it going? I decided I had to know and since Mom and Dad were no longer here, it wouldnt be an awful thing to pull up a few boards just to check. I went to the garage and got a spade. I stuck the flat edge of it inot the outline on the side closest to me. It didnt lift up just one board. It lifted up the whole side of the suare in the middle of the floor. Ben ran to my side when I squealed with disbelief. a wooden stairwell leading to nothing but darkness. How could this be? We are in our early 20s now. we grew up here. playing endless games of hid and seek, we knew every nook and cranny of this house. or so we were soon to find out, we did not. "ill get a flashlight Jo, we are going down together.

Ben returns with the flashlight.I notice his wet handprint on the handle and the slight persperation building on his forehead.

"He leads the way turning to step down the wooden stairs as he faces me going down. He is giddy and excited! He looks as if he's unearthed some buried treasure. I on the other hand, the worrier wonder what they could have possibly had to hide from us?

it wasnt' a large room. at most 6x8. the floor was dirt and the walls formed by thousands of tiny different shaped and colored stones and cement. we couldn't see anything else. Why would it be empty? if theyd taken this time to hide it surely there must be something valuable hidden. We both turned to climb the stairs confused when the wall behind the stairs lit up and sparkled when the light hit it.

Cemented in between each rock were shiny gold nuggets and bright sparkly diamonds. Written on a rock dead center in black magic marker, was this.

No amount of gold and diamonds can replace the treasures that friends and family provide for a truly rich life.

Ben and I have families of our own now. We return to our parent's home every Sunday to share a family supper, and stories of our own adventures in life. When we are finished we move the rug, open the secret door, and gather with a flashlight at the bottom of the wooden stairs. We read this message, bow our heads and thank the good Lord above for the riches in love and family we share. on the way out, passing the magic marker around one by one, we leave our own message of hope.