Oct 2018
My lover was ill. I wasn't sure whether it was her health or her batty old mind, but nonetheless she was not well. It was in moments like these that I knew of only one way to cheer her up.
"I shall return at the next hour, with lilies from the market we love to venture to," I assured her, taking my ragged hat from its hook on the coat rack.
“No need,” I think I saw her smile,“they’ll only die. A grim remembrance of a day, no way to hold a memory. Buy for us a memory that will not perish. Shall I suggest a music box? Large enough to fit the pins and gears and an entire day, but let it be able to sit in the palm of your hand. Ensure it has a lock, so that the keeper of time has a key, where seconds cannot escape it, and minutes lurk in the corners. A trinket that for those who live beyond us will know not of what we knew, what belonged to us in this moment, but can replace our knowledge with theirs.”
I wasn't sure what my lover meant, how tragic her mind like this, yet I could only tip my hat to her with the promise of fulfilling her desires.
I set to town with ten silver coins in a velvet sachet my lover had sewn for me. My steps were light and small, but did not lack haste. The market smelled the way it always did when I arrived, like fresh dough and my lover's hair, and I knew exactly where to find what she sought. An old friend of mine started making tchotchkes by hand after his mother, who played music with my lover, passed away.
"It's about time you came to see me again," his said, his voice booming with joy as he saw me, "I know just the thing you need."
It was beyond me how he could have known anything before I said it, but alas he was right. He dusted off a small wooden box with an elephant atop it.
"My momma told me you'd be needing this. Said it'd keep you company," his eyes twinkled with a secret.
I nodded to him, confused but with no time to waste, placed the ten coins on his table and was on my way.
A storm was in the works as I made my way home, and by the time I arrived, my lover had died. The rain danced slowly into the house as I shut the door. I said not a word, and shed not a tear, but wound up the old gears on that music box, setting it next to her bedside table. All was quiet except for that box, the one I had hoped for her to hear, and our small cabin felt larger now. The stray cat that argued its way into our home was pawing at the window, trying to escape into the night. The song was almost over when I heard her. Yes, she was humming from the kitchen indeed, as she often did, as if she never left at all. The music box's key ticked slowly as it turned for the final time, but the song continued to play.
"I shall return at the next hour, with lilies from the market we love to venture to," I assured her, taking my ragged hat from its hook on the coat rack.
“No need,” I think I saw her smile,“they’ll only die. A grim remembrance of a day, no way to hold a memory. Buy for us a memory that will not perish. Shall I suggest a music box? Large enough to fit the pins and gears and an entire day, but let it be able to sit in the palm of your hand. Ensure it has a lock, so that the keeper of time has a key, where seconds cannot escape it, and minutes lurk in the corners. A trinket that for those who live beyond us will know not of what we knew, what belonged to us in this moment, but can replace our knowledge with theirs.”
I wasn't sure what my lover meant, how tragic her mind like this, yet I could only tip my hat to her with the promise of fulfilling her desires.
I set to town with ten silver coins in a velvet sachet my lover had sewn for me. My steps were light and small, but did not lack haste. The market smelled the way it always did when I arrived, like fresh dough and my lover's hair, and I knew exactly where to find what she sought. An old friend of mine started making tchotchkes by hand after his mother, who played music with my lover, passed away.
"It's about time you came to see me again," his said, his voice booming with joy as he saw me, "I know just the thing you need."
It was beyond me how he could have known anything before I said it, but alas he was right. He dusted off a small wooden box with an elephant atop it.
"My momma told me you'd be needing this. Said it'd keep you company," his eyes twinkled with a secret.
I nodded to him, confused but with no time to waste, placed the ten coins on his table and was on my way.
A storm was in the works as I made my way home, and by the time I arrived, my lover had died. The rain danced slowly into the house as I shut the door. I said not a word, and shed not a tear, but wound up the old gears on that music box, setting it next to her bedside table. All was quiet except for that box, the one I had hoped for her to hear, and our small cabin felt larger now. The stray cat that argued its way into our home was pawing at the window, trying to escape into the night. The song was almost over when I heard her. Yes, she was humming from the kitchen indeed, as she often did, as if she never left at all. The music box's key ticked slowly as it turned for the final time, but the song continued to play.
