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The Rutlanders

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My Mother's Son

The Magnolias

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            The soft ground feels glorious beneath my torn chest. Almost like a sand, but finer, so fine that I feel I could melt into it and let myself slip away for all eternity. So fine that I feel like I have begun a whole new life.       

            I lay flat out, face down, arms extended above my head. I can feel the wonderful sunshine beaming down on my slender back, touching every nook and fold with its luminous rays. I feel no pain whatsoever. My joints, usually sore and stiff, move freely, almost as if I can't control them. My head, normally pounding with thoughts of the passing day, is miraculously light, like I've let everything go for the time being. I almost feel like I’m floating; my body carries no weight.

            I feel free.

            It's the most wonderful feeling I've ever experienced.

            I gently roll over onto my back, the ground taking shape against the concave of my posterior. Eyes closed, I stretch every single entity in my body; a feeling of freedom overcomes me. There are no constraints, not a single thing holding me back. I rub my toes into the fine dirt. It feels like a stream of warm water is gently trickling over them.

            I slowly open my eyes, terrified that all of this is a finely orchestrated deception created by some omnipotent cosmic joker. My pupils are immediately greeted by a deep blue sky; the deepest blue that I've ever seen. Deep like the ocean, like a dream come to life. There are no clouds; just perfect, crystal clear blue sky. I must be in heaven.

            I take a moment to appreciate what lies before me. I concentrate on the sky, the potential of what lies beyond. Somewhere up there, somebody's looking down on me, wondering what I'm doing. Instead of being frightened at the thought, I only prey that they will someday feel the euphoria that I'm enjoying in this moment. I want to live forever, here, just like this.

            But it seems not to be. A strange wind picks up, gently tossing my hair from my forehead. It's soft and fresh, like an autumn's breeze. But it's not without fault; there's a nip in the air, like a storm is brewing on the horizon.

            I slowly raise myself to my feet, somewhat wondering if any quick movement on my part will bring this utopia crashing down. Once on my feet, I feel nothing: no sore back, no tired feet, nothing. I feel like a newborn.

            Looking to the ground, I lift my averted eyes to what lies before me. Everything unfolds as if for the first time. The crystalline blue sky that I sunk into while laying down seems to stretch on forever, at some unknown point meeting the vast, rich green fields that lie before me. A green that I can't even describe. A green that would put Ireland itself to shame.

            Flowers dot the field, filling my eyes with a colourful explosion of contrasts. The blue against the green, the green punctuated by roses and carnations, lupines and forget-me-nots. It's the most glorious field I've ever seen.

            The path I stand on leads up the field and trails off as a soft hill forms. It's old and worn; the field has reclaimed it in many spots. But what lies ahead of me seems soft and inviting, like a warm, sandy beach.

            Cautiously, I take a few small steps on the path, making sure that everything is safe.

The ground doesn't shake, my legs don't break; everything seems fine. Ever less cautious, I take more steps until I am in a normal walking stride. The ground under my toes feels absolutely amazing, like a message with every step I take. The wind fills my lungs, bringing fresh air with every breath.

            A few steps ahead of me there's a dip in the landscape. Curiously, I'm drawn to it. It's a small pond filled with water, the same crystalline colour of the sky ahead. I kneel down and dip my hands in the water. It feels cool and refreshing, but the water quickly escapes my hands and I'm left with nothing. I stare into the pond, trying to get view of my reflection. But the water doesn't stand still. As if something is moving the pond from down below, the water is turbid, constantly forming small ripples, rendering me unable to see anything at all.

            As I stand, I notice that the wind is blowing harder than before. Looking up, the sky is still the same crystalline blue. I take a deep, refreshing breath, but there’s a strange scent in the air, like an electricity. I look to where I once stood only to see dark clouds on the horizon. They’re menacing; the kind that one imagines hanging over Kansas before a tornado descends. But they look to be far off in the distance, nothing that I have to worry about.

            I look back to the path that spreads in front of me, and start once again along the way. Looking off into the horizon, I notice a small blip, something that appears to be a tree. I take off running, running as fast as I can, running so fast that my legs don't seem to keep up with my body. I don’t ever remember running this fast, it’s as if I have wings. The ground gives way under my feet, offering no resistance whatsoever. I run so fast that only my toes touch the ground, my arms spread as if ready to rise off the ground.

            The freedom I feel is indescribable. I want to keep running forever, never looking back, never looking down. Just run until there's nowhere left to run.

            My sight focused on the blip in the distance; it slowly comes into view. It is indeed a tree, the outline of which expands before my eyes. Off the path, I run through the grass in the field of dreams, ready to embrace whatever lies before me. Finally reaching my destination, I stop and stare at the splendour of god's miracle. The tree is tall and magnificent, branches extending to the highest point of the sky and the lowest depth of the earth. As the tree lays itself out before me, so does something resting on the other side.

            Slowly, I sunder my way around the tree. A leg comes into view, then a body. Finally, a face. I believe that it‘s my father.

            He lays there, back propped up against the trunk, arms limp, legs spread as if in a yogic position. He stares off into space, perhaps exploring the same thoughts that I did earlier. Is somebody looking down on him? Us? Is that same person orchestrating this entire miracle?           

            I study his face. His mouth is half open, his eyes wide, his expression blank. As if gawking, he doesn't even appear to be breathing. He just rests and stares.

            But suddenly, cuts start to appear on his face. One develops from his left eye to his mouth, another encircles his chin. Bruises take shape. His forehead turns a bluish grey colour under this transformation, his lips split and ooze blood.

            In my 23 years, I have never met my father. Eight years ago, I received the news that he had been in a serious car accident but I never found out exactly what happened to him. Is it possible that he died in that accident? The gaping wounds taking shape on his face appear as if they could be fatal, but alas, I will never know.

            As he lies, bleeding, I decide to leave. His rapid transformation leaves me wondering what this paradise really is; whether it's slowly falling apart. But it can't be; it’s the most wonderful place I've ever encountered. It can't be coming to an end.

            I back away from the body, hoping that the bruises and cuts will hide themselves in the shadows. Hoping that they will disappear as mysteriously as they appeared. Hoping that this isn't the end.

            The wind is stronger now; the dark clouds closer. The sun still shines, however, something that relieves me. I sprint through the field and back to the path, the wind offering little resistance. Looking off into the horizon, I notice another blip. Once again, curiously, I'm drawn to it. I run up the path until the blip becomes larger. Before me I find another tree, but one different from the first. The branches are wilted, as if clinging to their last drop of life. Coming closer, I notice something leaning against the trunk. It's my grandmother.

            I'm surprised that she's in paradise with me, but I'm relieved to see her. To be truthful, she is my paradise, in a way. Growing up with her living nearby, she was the one person I could always run to, the one person who would hold me as I cried the night away.

            Like my father before her, she too stares off into space. A look of disappointment is plastered on her face, as if all that she once knew as truth has been revealed as a lie. Her arms rest on her lap, her legs are crossed.

            I open my mouth to greet her, but no words come out. It's as if my voice box has suddenly disappeared. No sound appears, no vibration, not even the thought of what I would say to her. I am left silent.

            I reach to her and put my hand on top of her head, gently stroking her greying hair. Still, she doesn't respond. She stares off into space, ignoring, or not knowing, that I'm standing beside her.

            Frustrated, I back away towards the path. The person that I respect the most in the world is sitting beside a tree, and I can't even communicate with her. I shake my head in disappointment and turn back for the path.

            Once again on the path, the wind picks up considerably. The ominous clouds that were once years in the distance now sit overhead. The air is charged; it feels like a lightening could hit any moment. Undeterred, I continue to walk up the path. The ground, once soft and inviting, slowly turns rocky, like chards of glass. Stabs of pain hit my feet with every step. I step off the path and into the field, but it too is rough.  A drop of rain hits my forehead, rolling down my nose and hitting the ground with a thud. And another. One by one, the drops fall from the sky, released from their cloud prisons, splashing against the field. A crack of thunder strikes off in the distance as lightening illuminates the sky. I start to run as the rain falls harder. But I cannot run as freely as before, the ground is becoming muddy and innavigable.

            With every stride I take, my feet sink into the dirt of the field. The once inviting grass becomes withered and brown, as if taking their last collective sigh before death. I try to run faster, but it seems impossible. As the rain soaks my body, I search for shelter, but I am unable to lift my head. The rain turns into hail, stinging my skin.

            One by one, I lift my feet out of the mud and take my next step. The hail collects on the ground, leaving an icy glare. I slip and fall flat on my face, but get back on my feet before I sink into the quicksand-like ground. Muddy, I try to step up my pace, but it's fruitless. Headfirst, I try to make my way through the torrential rain and the piercing hail. But a few steps later, I hit something, sending me back first onto the hard ground.

            With the thunder cracking in all directions, I slowly open my eyes. It seems I have run into a tree, the third. But this one is dead. Most of the bark has fallen off its trunk and termites are making a home of what's left. I follow the trunk skyward with my eyes, shielding them from the hail.

            Hanging from a branch near the top is my mother. Her face bloated and her body limp, her cold eyes stare back at me in a morose embrace.

            She's dead.

            Shocked, I stumble to my feet and start running again. The ground is even thicker than before, and often times I sink up to my knees. I look over my shoulder to the tree. My mother still hangs, her body swaying in the intense wind. Her eyes are still transfixed on me, which only makes me want to run faster. I pull myself out of the mud and stumble on hands and knees through the booms of thunder and the pilling hail. I make it back up to my feet and start running once again. With all that I have, I run faster and faster, hoping to not even leave footprints.

            A rumble comes from below, like the on earlier by the pond. It grows stronger and stronger until I am knocked off my feet. I try to stand, but I am unable to. My body sinks in the mud as I struggle to retain anything of balance. Arms flailing, legs kicking, but it's to no avail.

            The shaking of the ground becomes so intense that I'm left dizzy in its wake. Suddenly, the ground gives way.

            The mud seemingly evaporates as I start falling from below. Without a neither sense of up nor down, I am rendered clueless as to what’s happening. Something seems to be pulling me down, like a vacuum. I open my eyes only to see darkness, not a single ray of light shines.

            I start to quiver in fear, not knowing if this could be the end of my life. Memories flash before my eyes: my mother and I watching television; my grandmother taking me to the park; my childhood on the streets of the city. But it's all so vague, like it all occurred hundreds of years ago. Not one clear thought comes to me, leaving me ever more confused and hopeless.

            I go into the abyss not knowing where I came from, not knowing who I am. Without knowing what to do, I simply close my eyes and continue to fall. Into the darkness, forever.