The Inn by the Lake by Beckey A Randazzo

It was a cold night. The kind of night that brings a certain chill to the bones. The air around him seemed thick too thick to breathe. He looked up at the night sky and saw a thousand little lights desperately trying to guide him home. Home. That was a place that no longer seemed to exist. He had let her go and with her his home went too. The stars seemed to tease him as he walked on further into the night. How could he be so blind? She was unhappy and that is why she left. What reason would she have to go if she were perfectly content at home? He looked around at all of the people ice skating on that frozen lake near the inn. Mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, husbands and wives, all dancing around with their destiny in hand. He envied their kindred spirits. He wanted to feel something, anything other than this pain that had made its home in his soul. “Are you checking in?” the clerk’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. “Sir?” He quickly responded embarrassed by his lack of awareness. “Yes, yes sorry I was just thinking about how beautiful Christmas time is here” The clerk smiled and shook her head. “It is beautiful isn’t it? Now will you be checking in sir?” He looked up and then muttered “I leave no memory of myself”. “What was that?” she asked. “Oh nothing it's just that I checked in two days ago, I was just wondering if there were any messages.” He waited there as she checked. He was presumably sure there were no calls. There never were, but that did not stop him from asking. He thought to himself “I must ask for it is hope that keeps me breathing”. He believed that if a man lay there with no hope it must mean air has left his lungs and that heart of his has stopped. But as long as he was still breathing, he would hold on to that small glimmer of hope buried deep beneath a mountain of agony. “No messages sir” the clerk responded. He made his way to his room. It seemed emptier than he remembered. The walls around him were painted a shade of blue that he had never seen. It confused his eyes. He thought to himself, why would they paint it such an unsettling color. Perhaps it should have just been painted in black then it would all make sense. Dark blue is just a poor man’s black is it not? He walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. “You’re getting old, you fool, and your grey hairs are turning white” he said to himself. The snow was falling, and he could see it from the small window. He could still hear the children laughing as they skated on the frozen lake. Oh to be young again he thought, when your life is not just in the rear view. So many roads not taken and so many stones unturned. He had spent his younger years giving his bones a great burden to carry. He was a builder and his hands were the foundation of all he built. No tool ever worked better than the two God gave him. His left and his right miracle workers. But they were different now. So many wrinkles and marks that were not there before. He lifted them to his face and observed them. It was hard to believe that those hands ever built anything. They were so frail now and he could barely open them. He laughed out loud with just the thought of what his wife would say. She would probably say that he  finally has time to twiddle his thumbs. He had spent most of his life with the woman he loved, and he knew God had blessed him.  But now he was alone, and he could feel it. The snow was falling a bit harder now and he could feel a draft sneaking in. He wondered if that was her way of telling him everything was going to be okay. The night soon turned into morning as his eyes grew weary. Sleep was a gift that he no longer had, not since she left. The winter wind blew hollow and meek as he made his way outside. Walking past strangers was never something he feared, but oh how he feared it now. A passing glance, a lingering smile, or a simple wave were all things that provoked him now. What right do they have to say hello to a man that is not really present? The lake was empty now because of the early hour and so he made his way to the bench. The bench was old perhaps as old as him. It must have seen so many people. It must have been sat upon by many generations.Thrown at the base of the bench were two coffee cups. The old man picked them up and shook his head. “It may be old but it still has value” he thought. He sat and watched that lake for it was the last place he saw her. In his younger years he would never throw his money away on such a pretentious establishment as the inn he took residence in now. Though beautiful the inn was not his home. He stayed there in hopes that she would return. In hopes that she would somehow smell his scent, hear his voice, and search for his touch. After all, she was everything to him now. The mornings were filled with her kisses and the nights were filled with her walks. The evenings were filled with her questions and the days were filled with her joy. He wanted that. He needed that. She was everything he still wanted to so desperately feel. Her absence made him absent as well. “Excuse me sir, mind if i sit”? The old man looked up from his daze and saw a young lad with a troubled look on his face. “It’s a free country son but that cigarette in your hand might be a problem.” the old man said. “ Oh these things. I have been trying to quit. New years eve I shall have my last smoke and then it's gone with the wind I swear.” The young man said as he put out his smoke.  The old man chuckled and then responded “Well you see son I don’t care what you do but my lungs have handled all they can.” “Ahh, a fellow smoker” said the young man. “ On the contrary it was the sawdust that did me in” the old man said with a smile on his face. The young man nodded and said “Well I don’t mean to be a bother but my children are in the inn with their mother and they are all driving me crazy” The old man looked at him and said “ Never had children but I did have a wife who sometimes still drives me crazy in my mind.” They both laughed and then the young man explained. “It’s just that the kids they've found a dog you see. A nice dog but it is still a stray and even if it wasn’t we have no room to keep it and we’re definitely not going to keep it in the inn with us. My goodness it's our vacation for pete's sake!” “ A dog you say” the old man asked with his eyebrows furrowed and his eyelids wide. The conversation ceased as the old man saw the two children running out of the inn with the dog. She followed the children as they ran to their father. Her coat was brown with gold luster. Her eyes were green and pure. She ran past the children straight to him. “Boy she likes you” the young man said. The children begged to keep her but their father said no. “You cannot keep a stray, look see there is no collar” he explained. The wind seemed to howl as the snow from the night before lightly fell off  the trees. The old man stood there frozen as he reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out a collar. The young man and the children did not speak a word. They just watched as the dog licked the old man’s hands. He put the collar on and walked away. He could barely hear them saying bye, he just kept on walking. They walked and they walked until the night sky fell. The lake became busy again and the snow did not fall. He knew his things were not packed and check out was in the morning. But he could not help but stay outside and watch the people skate. He sat there on that old bench and she sat right beside him.He looked up at the night sky and saw a thousand little lights. The stars never shined so bright. And though the journey was not yet made, he knew that he was home.