A Glimpse of Hope

by Melian

She stood at the shoreline, the water lapping at her bare feet, the loose ends of her hair whipped around her face by the wind that had come up in the last half-hour; it’s breath on her cheeks the only thing keeping her believing that this was reality and not just a muddled dream she’d somehow wandered into.

Her eyes were fixed unseeingly on the clouds that settled thickly over the gray waters. A familiar burning ache grew in her throat and her heart stood in her eyes, though no one was around to look in them.

Everyone was gone. Parents had packed up their children when the breeze had begun to pick up and the increasing cold of the once balmy air had finally chased everyone else away.

Rain began to fall from the heavens, cool and fresh. She loved rain. She loved it when she was happy and perhaps even more when she felt as she did at that moment, for it seemed to shed tears for her and the moan of the wind gave voice to the cry that was in her heart.

A sand castle stood near her feet, the by-product of someone’s earlier visit at the beach. It’s thick walls were beginning to flatten as the foam crested waves dashed against it and the rain beat down on top of it–like so much of her life, she thought. So many dreams and plans and relationships had come tumbling down around her as the life-rains poured down and before she could even catch her breath the pieces were carried off like sand castles by the sea.

Rain drops mingled with tears on her cheeks memories wakened new pain in her numb heart. Conflicting thoughts and emotions struggled inside her but the only ones that formed themselves into words escaped her lips in a breathy whisper “You know God. You know.”

She took a deep breath that threatened to break into a sob and lifted her eyes from the clouded horizon. She caught sight of a hole in the storm clouds high over her head–a small patch of blue sky beyond the storm. A small ray of sunlight escaped through the opening and sparkled on the water, making it dance and speaking peace to her heart. Another deep breath of ocean air felt like balm on the shattered pieces of her heart and she squared her shoulders. There was blue sky beyond the storm clouds, warmth beyond the cold. And even if the rest of her life was as stormy as that day, she would always have her bit of blue sky to hold onto–there was always the promise that one day the whole of her existence would open up in a bright expanse of clear blue; perfect, peaceful and perpetual. There was always hope.

The Old Friend – submitted by Melian

The pastor prayed as the last few notes of the closing hymn hung in the air before dismissing the congregation with an exhortation and blessing. People left their seats, leaving to pick up kids from Sunday school classes, going out to lunch, or congesting the aisles while they chatted with friends. One of the female members approached William Kelly as he slowly rose from his chair, leaning on his old wooden cane. She was accompanied by her usual bright smile which he returned with one of his own–worn perhaps, but not at all rusty.

“Hello Mr. Kelly!”

“Hello Emma.” His heart delighted at her cheerful voice, youthful beauty, and that certain glow that only comes from being recently married. In his mind’s eye he saw his own wife at that age with that same glow, standing in the same room, the sanctuary lights glowing softly on her golden head…

“Ryan and I were wondering if you would like to join us for lunch this afternoon?”

The smile on William’s face widened at the invitation but he shook his head. “Thank you Emma, but I think not today. Why don’t you and Ryan have a nice quiet afternoon to yourselves.”

“You have other plans?”

“Yes. Yes I do. I’m going to spend some time with a very old friend of mine.”

“Oh!” Emma’s smile came back in full force. “That’s great! How do you two know each other?”

“My wife introduced us, a long time ago.”

“Do you get to see each other often?”

“Oh I try to get together once a year or so.”

“How fun. I hope you have a good time.”

William nodded. “I’m sure we will. And thank you for the lunch offer.”

“Oh yes. Maybe we can do it next week.”

“Sounds fine with me.”

“Alright! We’ll plan on that then. Have a good week Mr. Kelly!”

“You too Emma.”

Emma joined her husband outside the church doors and together they headed towards the parking lot.

“He said no?”

“He’s having company over today. Maybe next week.”

Ryan nodded. “I’m glad you thought to offer,” he said, slipping an arm around his wife’s waist.

She nestled her head against his broad shoulder. “I’m glad he has a good friend to spend time with.”

William crossed through the picketed gate opening onto his yard and walked the pathway up to the front door. Though his shoulders were hunched slightly from age, his still-dark head was only a few inches from the top of the door frame.

In the kitchen he took from the refrigerator a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade made just the way his wife used to do for hot summer afternoons. With a glass filled with the pale yellow liquid, he stepped across the hallway to the cool library and sank into his favorite easy chair. He took into hand an old paperback; tears dimmed his vision as his eyes ran over the words written just inside the tattered cover in faded ink–

To my dear husband Will, with hopes that he will enjoy it for many years to come.
Many loves, Margaret.

One withered finger lovingly traced the words before he turned past the introduction and the table of contents, his eyes taking in the familiar words that greeted him with perfect welcome. William turned the worn pages ’til he came to the first chapter. His eyes swept through it, reacquainting himself with the dear old words, the rich story. As a satisfied smile crept to his lips, Will sank back deep into his chair.

“Hello, old friend.”

“You know you’ve read a good book when you turn the last page and feel a little as if you have lost a friend.”–Paul Sweeney