K1.) Alvan

It’s been 17 years since this day, October 28^th, 1990 and I have always thought this book was stupid idea. Why would I ever need it? “Why take pictures Mom? Live in the moment!” I used to say to her as I stood mechanically in front of the Red Robbin mascot or with Mickey at Disney World.

“You never know, Honey, this may become a big part of your life one day.” She’d respond with her beautiful smile; and she was right, as Mom always is. This day and this particular memory stood out vividly though I was only five. His hands were rough on my arm but I knew he meant no harm, he was a strong man.  He showed me the boat and told me the story of when he rode that very boat across the Atlantic.  I remember thinking how heroic he was, so brave.  He was who I wanted to be.

I heard the door open and footsteps before she spoke. “It’s beautiful. How late was it? It seems so dark out.”

It was Kali. She came and sat next to me smelling of violets and vanilla with a hint of red wine.

“It was early, around 5 am. He woke me up along with my Mother, as promised.” I turned the book towards her. “The boat was his. He gave it to a group of fishermen after he came back from his trip. It had been over 20 years since he saw it last but he knew they were coming to town that morning.”

She responded by taking my hand in hers.  It was warm today, which came as a surprise to me because I am used to a slight chill. I looked her in the eye and she smiled with a hint of sympathy. I didn’t finish the story, I didn’t need to. She knew I’d tell her someday, maybe when I was telling my own son. We sat in comfortable silence, with her hand in mine. The grandfather clock rang at the hit of 7:00pm. Kali moved with a quick motion, startled, realizing the time. She paused before getting up and looked at me.  She wiped the only tear from my cheek.

“It’s time to say goodbye, Alvan. I’ll see you down there.” She kissed me on the forehead just before leaving.

I found out about his sickness just before my college graduation, it shattered my world because he acted so normal. So brave. After 6 months of hospital visits and late night ambulances he finally said his last words. That was three days ago.

“The boat returns in 7 days. Go for me, Alvan.”

“I will, I’ll go.”

Now I stand in my suit and tie, pick up the book and think to myself, Thank you Mom.