Sunshine
Copyright Michael A. Oren 2007
Copyright Michael A. Oren 2007
The sun beat down on Leona's brow as beads of sweat fell from her bangs, down her sun burnt nose. Her San Francisco Giants hat was askew as she forced herself to continue forward. Her periwinkle shirt was drenched in sweat and mud. She seemed barely able to hold herself up and it seemed that if she would lose her walking stick that she would collapse like a rag doll abandoned by a child who finds a newer, shinier toy to occupy herself.
Leona remembered her first doll, a hand me down from her cousin Sally. It had been mistreated by its previous owner, barely stitched back together with pieces of worn out jeans and a button sewed on to replace one of the eyes. Leona thought it was the most beautiful doll in the world and for the longest time it was her most prized possession. Until one day when her ex-boyfriend Charles threw it to his Doberman in a fit of anger. There was nothing left of the doll other than the scars left behind on her arms when she tried to pull it away from that damn mutt.
The scars didn't really bother Leona much. She had many more that were deeper and much more painful than the ones she received that day. Somehow she always seemed to find herself in bad situations--well, bad relationships. "That which doesn't kill you, makes you stronger," she thought to herself as she resisted the urge to stop and rest since she knew the moment she stopped moving forward she would collapse and be unable to continue.
It wasn't so much that Leona believed these clichés so much as she felt the need to latch on to something, anything, that might give her hope. That's the same reason she goes to church every Sunday, sings the hymns, goes through the routine--all without feeling anything, all without believing a damn word of anything her priest said. Even if a god existed, she didn't believe he was a benevolent god and she'd sooner sign a pact with the devil then follow a god who expected her to go through this hell on earth without any type of certain reward at the end of it all. Every time she needed him, he was never there. She always had to save herself, build her life on her own. If there was a god, why had he given her nobody and taken away everything from her? Her doll, her son, her home.
The wind was cold that night as she hurried home. She had to work late that night--they needed the money. Her son had been home alone for over two hours. Leona had hired a sitter, of course, but Latashia had had to leave early that night due to an early morning test. So once she got Benny to sleep, she had left for the night.
She remembered hearing the sirens first. Instinctively she increased her pace, but she had never mastered running in high heels. As she turned the corner, she saw the fire. Abandoning her shoes, she took off toward the fire as quickly as she could. She tried to rush in to save her son, she beat at the chests of the firefighters that tried to hold her back. All she could do was watch the flames lick greedily at her house. She swore she heard her son calling for her "Mommy, mommy where are you? I'm scared mommy!" But the autopsy had revealed he had died instantly the moment the fire started.
That was five years ago. The first two years she refused to talk or eat. The bastards had her committed. They couldn't understand her grief. They wouldn't let her die. She kept reliving that night. It was like a rerun that continually played in her mind. Her medication helped make the nightmare end, but she kept seeing Benny, his face burnt, his jaw gone, his vacant eyes staring at her burning the guilt into her mind.
Reaching the summit, she looked around her. At the forest and lakes below. At the mountain peaks around her. Sublime serenity. Total bullshit. As she stood there though, staring out at the world around her, alone with nothing but her hiking equipment and her son's ashes, she felt a calm come down upon her that she had never felt before. She opened the urn and spread the ashes to the wind.
Ever since he had been three, Benny had always been fascinated by the picture she kept of her hike up Yosemite. That was a hike she had taken years ago, well before she ever had Benny and when she was in much better shape than she was now. She always promised him that she would take him there one day. Now she was finally fulfilling her promise.
The ashes fluttered away with the wind, like a black snowfall. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She felt a tear roll down, mix with her sweat and watched as it splashed to the ground.
As the last of his ashes left the urn, Leona collapsed to the ground. She was at peace and the sun beat down upon her body as she wept for the last time.
Leona remembered her first doll, a hand me down from her cousin Sally. It had been mistreated by its previous owner, barely stitched back together with pieces of worn out jeans and a button sewed on to replace one of the eyes. Leona thought it was the most beautiful doll in the world and for the longest time it was her most prized possession. Until one day when her ex-boyfriend Charles threw it to his Doberman in a fit of anger. There was nothing left of the doll other than the scars left behind on her arms when she tried to pull it away from that damn mutt.
The scars didn't really bother Leona much. She had many more that were deeper and much more painful than the ones she received that day. Somehow she always seemed to find herself in bad situations--well, bad relationships. "That which doesn't kill you, makes you stronger," she thought to herself as she resisted the urge to stop and rest since she knew the moment she stopped moving forward she would collapse and be unable to continue.
It wasn't so much that Leona believed these clichés so much as she felt the need to latch on to something, anything, that might give her hope. That's the same reason she goes to church every Sunday, sings the hymns, goes through the routine--all without feeling anything, all without believing a damn word of anything her priest said. Even if a god existed, she didn't believe he was a benevolent god and she'd sooner sign a pact with the devil then follow a god who expected her to go through this hell on earth without any type of certain reward at the end of it all. Every time she needed him, he was never there. She always had to save herself, build her life on her own. If there was a god, why had he given her nobody and taken away everything from her? Her doll, her son, her home.
The wind was cold that night as she hurried home. She had to work late that night--they needed the money. Her son had been home alone for over two hours. Leona had hired a sitter, of course, but Latashia had had to leave early that night due to an early morning test. So once she got Benny to sleep, she had left for the night.
She remembered hearing the sirens first. Instinctively she increased her pace, but she had never mastered running in high heels. As she turned the corner, she saw the fire. Abandoning her shoes, she took off toward the fire as quickly as she could. She tried to rush in to save her son, she beat at the chests of the firefighters that tried to hold her back. All she could do was watch the flames lick greedily at her house. She swore she heard her son calling for her "Mommy, mommy where are you? I'm scared mommy!" But the autopsy had revealed he had died instantly the moment the fire started.
That was five years ago. The first two years she refused to talk or eat. The bastards had her committed. They couldn't understand her grief. They wouldn't let her die. She kept reliving that night. It was like a rerun that continually played in her mind. Her medication helped make the nightmare end, but she kept seeing Benny, his face burnt, his jaw gone, his vacant eyes staring at her burning the guilt into her mind.
Reaching the summit, she looked around her. At the forest and lakes below. At the mountain peaks around her. Sublime serenity. Total bullshit. As she stood there though, staring out at the world around her, alone with nothing but her hiking equipment and her son's ashes, she felt a calm come down upon her that she had never felt before. She opened the urn and spread the ashes to the wind.
Ever since he had been three, Benny had always been fascinated by the picture she kept of her hike up Yosemite. That was a hike she had taken years ago, well before she ever had Benny and when she was in much better shape than she was now. She always promised him that she would take him there one day. Now she was finally fulfilling her promise.
The ashes fluttered away with the wind, like a black snowfall. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She felt a tear roll down, mix with her sweat and watched as it splashed to the ground.
As the last of his ashes left the urn, Leona collapsed to the ground. She was at peace and the sun beat down upon her body as she wept for the last time.
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