Chapter Sixty-five

THE ANDERCHRONICLES

By Me, Ellee

[WARNING: The following story has been rated FNF*]
*Fiction NOT Fact

"The Return"



Playful waves were crashing ashore to frolic on the sand, only to change their minds the very next second, and dash back out to sea. It was like they couldn’t decide where they wanted to be. But I knew exactly where I wanted to be—standing there on that beach, snuggled against Andy, his arms circling my waist from behind, my head leaning back on his chest which was rising and falling like mine as we breathed slowly and deeply together, taking in the incredible seascape spread out before us. It permeated all our senses—the vivid blue sky overhead, so bright sunglasses were useless; The stinging sensation of salty water inundating bare toes; The scent of ocean spray; The caw-cawing of seagulls in competition with roaring waves racing back to the great abyss. It was simply awesome!

Pulling into the driveway of Andy’s weekend retreat twenty minutes earlier, I couldn’t wait to kick off my shoes and make a mad dash to the beach. I noticed a For Sale sign on Sissy's house next door. Andy said the house had been empty for two weeks, ever since Sissy moved to Colorado to accept a position as head nurse at a large hospital. He was thinking of buying it.

Once I was out of the car and free of my shoes, I ran toward the waves, Andy following close behind, also shoeless. It was one of those things you just had to do— squish the wet sand between your toes. You didn’t want anything coming between you and the ocean experience. We laughed and squealed as we ran, skipping and jumping with abandon. There was no one around so we didn’t have to observe any rules of comportment. It was just he and I, the ocean and the vast sky, and tons and tons of white and gray seagulls dropping their ordinance all over the beach, and us giggling each time we dodged an incoming bombardment. Then the ocean breeze caught us in the face and whipped our hair out behind us. Well, okay, I have to admit, it didn’t exactly whip Andy’s hair, but it certainly whistled through those little stubs of hair left over from his last hair cut.

As we stood there together, being one with this experience, we both felt everything at that moment was truly right with the world. And it was. Then I felt the tickle of warm breath as his lips whispered in my ear,

“You do recognize this, don’t you, Ellee?”

I turned my head to look up at him, and as I did so, the wind caught a strand of hair, tossing it gently across my face. He wasted no time brushing it aside with fingers long and graceful, so masterful he didn’t even poke my eye. We responded to one another with knowing smiles, and I added,

“Yes, Andy, I do —one of those special little moments in time . . . another gift.”

“ Most definitely,” he acknowledged, his voice trailing off. Then a few minutes later, he took a deep breath and added, “You know, standing here with you, I just realized something—life isn’t measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the number of moments that take our breath away—Ellee, this just takes my breath away!”

We stayed on the beach nestled together like that for some time, not wanting to miss even a tiny second of this incredible gift, realizing perhaps . . . just maybe, we were part of that gift. Finally, he turned me around to face him, saying,

“As remarkable as all this is, it’s not what I brought you here to see, Ellee. Time is short; we need to hurry.”

And with that, he took my hand and led me away from the beach, up to his house. Once there he quickly hurried us around to the back and out into the woods. It was all familiar. I had been there once before, only this time everything was different. The winter bleakness had blossomed into spring finery. The trees were no longer brown skeletons outlined by dark skies. And the pine trees had taken on a new growth of spring green as tiny needles broke through the paper sheath protecting them from the cold of winter. Even the drab earth beneath our feet was taking on color with tender shoots of green grass popping up all over the forest floor, pushing aside and hiding the dead pine needles.

When we arrived at a small field just past the trees, as I was about to take a step Andy warned,

“Ellee, walk lightly . . . Mother Earth is pregnant.”

I turned to him in surprise, “What? . . . did you just say . . . Mother Earth is pregnant ?” I giggled.

“Yes, that’s what I said. It’s an old proverb from the Kiowa Indians. And it’s true. Everything in spring is giving birth. Mother Earth is certainly no exception.”

He looked around the field for a minute, like he was searching for something in particular. Then appearing to find it, he looked over at me and added,

“There’s another saying, this one from the Arapaho Indians which says, ‘All plants are our brothers and sisters. They talk to us, and if we listen, we can hear them.’”

No sooner had he said this than he bolted to the place where he had been looking, and then dropped to the earth on his belly, placing his ear close to the ground, which was covered with a compost of dead leaves and other decaying matter from the past season, and made like he was listening. I leaned over, hands on my knees, to watch this little show. After a moment I ventured,

“Uhhhh . . . Andy . . . what did our brothers and sisters say?”

“Ellee, come down here . . .” he motioned, and then reached up and pulled me to the ground next to him.

“What do you see here?”

I scanned the area he was pointing to and replied,

“Just the remains of last fall.”

“Look again, Ellee!” he anxiously urged, hands waving excitedly.

So I searched again, only this time I really looked—past the leaves, through the rotting mulch, squinting my eyes so I wouldn't miss anything, until at last, I spied something . . . something yellow, honey yellow—golden honey yellow.

“Oh Andy,” I cried, “ I see it! It’s yellow!”

“Yes! That’s it! You found it!”

“Wow! I found it! . . . I mean, I did? Andy . . . what did I find?”

But he didn’t answer, instead he began clearing the decaying debris away from the amber-colored object, being very careful not to disturb whatever it was hiding beneath. With each pass of gentle and sensitive fingers, it became more and more evident something was growing there, until at last, with the final few leaves being swept aside, I heard a sudden intake of breath as he uncovered a delicate little flower growing on a single tiny stalk.

His eyes were so full of expectation as his gaze sought to connect with mine, and I caught a glimpse of something there I hadn't seen before.

“Ellee, Ellee,” he cried, hardly able to contain the joy that was starting to brim, “can you hear what this little plant is saying?" Excitement grew with each succeeding word. "You do know what this means, don’t you? The gentle lily has finally returned to this land—after all these long centuries. I found them all over these fields a few days ago when I came here to check on the house. I could barely wait to bring you here so you could see them for yourself!”

"Oh Andy, how is this possible? I mean . . . did you have the soil analyses I recommended?"

He looked so annoyed and sounded so exasperated as the words spilled out of his mouth, "Elleeeee !Nooooooo—there were no soil analyses, no microbial or geochemical samples taken, no permeable reactive barriers to remediate radionuclide, trace metals OR nutrient contamination, and no particle density tests WHATSOEVER!!!!—" But after a few moments, his exasperation subsided and his eyes grew soft and misty.

"Oh Ellee, don't you see . . . ?" He let his fingers slide softly down my cheek, " . . . this has nothing to do with soil chemistry, this was a . . . miracle."

He whispered this last word in reverence, and all at once I got the feeling the entire forest fell to its knees in respect for this great cosmic event. I looked all around us at that moment. I couldn't hear the usual sounds of the forest. Hey, I told myself, there is something going on here. I knew it. I felt it. And I could see that Andy definitely knew it and felt it. And furthermore, I was absolutely certain this was no ordinary occurrence. I couldn’t apply any of the laws of science to this event. So obviously the only explanation I can offer is, this had to be a miracle—a mighty miraculous miracle.

At the very moment I arrived at this conclusion, Andy gathered me into his arms, softly announcing,

“And Ellee, you and I are part of this miracle. With the return of this little flower, just as Indian legend promised, true and unending love can also return to this land— this land that for centuries has known nothing but sorrow and discontent. There will be meaning to life once again on this soil. Those sounds of sorrow will all disappear, replaced by sounds of hope and joy as children run and play in the lily fields like Running Deer and Gentle Lily did so long ago.”

And then, the same thing happened just like it did when we were there at Christmas time, we were carried away to see another time—a time when those gentle lilies were blooming in all their glorious splendor along the paths and under the trees and in these fields. A time when two children laughed and played in the warm sun of their youth. A time when two young people discovered an everlasting love for each other. A time of joy. But not a time of fulfillment.

“This time, Ellee,” his hold became tighter, “ there will be fulfillment!

At that precise moment a chorus of Silver Tails broke forth with a new song, filling the entire forest with jubilant sounds of celebration, announcing a new era for this land.

Bye for now,
Love,
Ellee