Jaci
Wander Often, Wonder Always
- Local time
- Today 10:25 AM
- Messages
- 33
- Age
- 33
Of all the things Robert Mason had done in his last 94 years, dying was the least dignified. Laying in his hospital bed, Robert's worn, depleted body lay under a thick layer of stiff white blankets. His arms hooked up to more lines and tubes then a machine, his thin skin bruised from so many inserts and needle pokes, he looked as though he had been bathed in purple ink.
Tired, dark blue eyes would strain to look about the room. The decor of hospitals had changed over the years, the colors were softer, t.v.s were bigger, the beds were nicer, but the sounds and the smells would never change. The constant beeping of the machines that were keeping Robert lingering on this Earth drowned out anything that was happening on the t.v. …and the smell...the smell was the worst. Even with the constant amount of pure oxygen that spilled into his nostrils, he could still smell the stench of sickness. Of death.
Weary eyes would settle on the only other person in the room. His son, Daniel sat on what looked like an uncomfortable chair, flipping through his newspaper. Waiting Robert thought, just waiting on me to go.
It would take more muster then a man of his grit would care to admit for Robert to turn his head away towards the window. The clear sky spilled in an almost blinding amount of pure blue. Flowers framed the seal, even their sweetness didn't cover the stink, but his gaze settled on a picture Daniel had placed there for him. A picture of Elizabeth, his wife. The picture had been taken in 1947 not long after they had wed. The tinted black and white picture did no justice to her beauty. She had copper red hair and emerald green eyes. He could remember it as clearly now as if he had seen it yesterday.
Turning his gaze back to the endless blue sky, a strange smell would come to him. This one seemed to block out the hospital stink. It smelled like someone was cooking. With every rattled breath, the smell was stronger. Robert wanted to turn his gaze back to Daniel to see if he could smell it too, but he didn't have the strength. It was chicken, fried chicken. Robert closed his eyes to savor the scent, but not a moment he'd shut them, he was being shook awake by someone.
"Robbie? Robbie wake up!"
A woman's voice echoed in his ear and Robert's eyes would reopen, but he was no longer looking to a blue spilled window. He'd now stare at a wallpapered wall. The beige floral paper shot out to him from the deepest depths of his memories. His childhood bedroom had this wallpaper. Reaching out to touch it, he'd withdraw his hand quickly at the sight of his fingers. No longer bony and withered. Youth had re-suppled them. Heart pounding, Robert would roll in his bed, discovering how effortlessly he could turn once more. His thundering heart would nearly jump into his throat as his eyes settled on a woman sitting at the edge of the bed, smiling at him. She was thin girl. Mousy blonde hair bobbed and curled tight. She wore a yellow sundress that fit well on a young woman her age, dark blue eyes that matched his own gleaming down at him with the same amount of astonishment as his own.
"R-Rebecca?" The voice that left Robert's mouth wasn't the gruff voice he had carried for the last three decades, but a much smoother, softer one. The girl would giggle as tears filled her eyes and she'd reach down to embrace him. Robert held her tight. He hadn't seen his sister in nearly 73 years. Not since she had been killed in a car crash when she was just 24 and he was 21. The two held each other for a long time before Robert would pull her away to look at her.
"I can't believe it! How can this be!? Where are we?"
They'd both glance about the room, Robert could feel his breath growing more rapid as each item in the room would bring him back in time. This was his childhood bedroom from their home in Kentucky. From the cut out cartoon funnies he had taped to the walls to the ceramic poodle he always hated that sat on his dresser that his aunt gave him, every thing was just as he remembered.
"We're home." Rebecca would answer softly. Standing to her feet, she'd extend a hand to him. An excited smile pulling at her painted red lips. "Come on, Robbie. They can't wait to see you."
"Who?" Robert would question curiously as he pulled the blankets from his body and took her hand. To his surprise, he could stand with no pain. He wasn't tired or achy anymore. Standing to his feet, his eyes would catch his own reflection in the mirror that hung above his dresser. No longer was he an old man crippled with arthritis and age. His balding head now filled with lush black hair that sat perfectly on his head even though he had just been laying. He was also already dressed. A plaid shirt tucked into his jeans. He'd marvel at the young man who stared back for a long moment before his sister pulled at his hands.
"Let's go, we can't keep them waiting any longer."
"Who's them?" Robert would ask again as he allowed her to pull him along out of the room. Rebecca would giggle once more as she flashed her lively eyes in his direction.
"You'll see!" She peeped and as she lead the way, Robert's eyes tried to focus on every inch and corner of their childhood home. From the creaky wood floor boards, to his mother's contrasting wallpaper and curtain schemes, the memories flooded him like a tidal wave. As they passed by the sitting room, the song Heartaches by Ted Weems played softly on the radio. The kitchen, smelled strongly of fried chicken, a delightful scent that filled the entire small house. With each passing room, Robert longed to linger, but Rebecca pulled him along towards the front door. The closer they got, the more he could hear multiple voices speaking and laughing. The screen door showered in the view of the large shade trees that littered their front yard, stocked full of dark green Summer leaves. He could see something like a ball roll across the front porch. A dog's cheerful bark sounding as claws tapped over the wooden planks quickly, dashing across the screen door after the ball. The pooch was only in sight for a moment but Robert recognized his stubby legs and bushy tail.
"Max!" Robert would laugh. His favorite dog from his late teens. They never went anywhere without each other. Never since Max had he had a dog that quite compared to his loyalty. Despite Rebecca's pulling, Robert would stop dead in his tracks as those on the porch would burst out in simultaneous laughter. There would be one woman's deep cackle that was undenying. One he'd long to hear for about 50 years now...His mother's.
Rebecca would turn about and seem to notice the sudden nervousness in his eyes. She'd cup his hands into hers and offer him her same, sweet smile.
"It's okay. Come on. We've been waiting for you for such a long time. Let's not keep them waiting any longer."
Rebecca would release her hold on Robert's hand. He'd watch with tight throat and trembling body as she approached the screen door and opened it. Gazing out on those outside, she'd speak proudly. "Look who finally got here," The voices outside hushed and Rebecca would look to Robert, nudging her head for him to come out.
With legs suddenly made of jello, Robert was shocked as he found his footing to move forward. Stepping out onto the front porch, Robert would nearly collapse at the sight. His mother, father, brother Roger, and several friends and relatives he hadn't seen in years were sitting in chairs on the front porch. Everyone seemed to get up at once and rush him. Hugging, shaking his hand, kissing him. It was all so overwhelming, and yet he didn't want it to end. How long he'd wish to see his family. He could feel himself laughing and crying at the same time. His heart was so full it could burst. Past the others though, there was one person who stood back patiently for her turn to see him again. In the same blue dress she wore the day she had gotten her picture taken for him, Elizabeth smiled sweetly in his direction. Tears spilling down her pale cheeks.
"Elizabeth," Robert would breathe. His family would pull from him, leaving him a path to his wife in which he took without a second thought. Elizabeth would laugh as he grabbed her up and held her off the ground. Her arms wrapping around him, they'd hold each other tightly. He'd spin her a few times on the porch, his face buried in her copper red hair, taking in her scent. He could hear his family gushing softly over them as he and Elizabeth shared their first passionate kiss since she left him 37 years prior.
Taking his seat on the front porch next to his wife, hand in hand, he'd spend hours catching up her, and everyone else on every thing that had happened since they left. Soon however, they'd all just reminisce on old times. Max, bringing Robert his ball every few minutes for him to chuck it out into the yard. Every seat was filled except for one on the opposite side of Elizabeth.
"Whose seat is that?" Asked Robert, looking about the front yard for another family member. Elizabeth would smile as she'd cast her gaze to the empty chair.
"It's for Daniel...When he comes to visit us someday."
Robert would smile to his wife, squeezing her hand gently. "I can't wait to see him again."
Closing his eyes , Robert took in the sweet summer time smells and the voices of his loved ones that filled the over hang of that long wrap around porch, Robert's heart would swell with joy....Of all the things Robert Mason had done in his last 94 years, dying was the most peaceful.
Tired, dark blue eyes would strain to look about the room. The decor of hospitals had changed over the years, the colors were softer, t.v.s were bigger, the beds were nicer, but the sounds and the smells would never change. The constant beeping of the machines that were keeping Robert lingering on this Earth drowned out anything that was happening on the t.v. …and the smell...the smell was the worst. Even with the constant amount of pure oxygen that spilled into his nostrils, he could still smell the stench of sickness. Of death.
Weary eyes would settle on the only other person in the room. His son, Daniel sat on what looked like an uncomfortable chair, flipping through his newspaper. Waiting Robert thought, just waiting on me to go.
It would take more muster then a man of his grit would care to admit for Robert to turn his head away towards the window. The clear sky spilled in an almost blinding amount of pure blue. Flowers framed the seal, even their sweetness didn't cover the stink, but his gaze settled on a picture Daniel had placed there for him. A picture of Elizabeth, his wife. The picture had been taken in 1947 not long after they had wed. The tinted black and white picture did no justice to her beauty. She had copper red hair and emerald green eyes. He could remember it as clearly now as if he had seen it yesterday.
Turning his gaze back to the endless blue sky, a strange smell would come to him. This one seemed to block out the hospital stink. It smelled like someone was cooking. With every rattled breath, the smell was stronger. Robert wanted to turn his gaze back to Daniel to see if he could smell it too, but he didn't have the strength. It was chicken, fried chicken. Robert closed his eyes to savor the scent, but not a moment he'd shut them, he was being shook awake by someone.
"Robbie? Robbie wake up!"
A woman's voice echoed in his ear and Robert's eyes would reopen, but he was no longer looking to a blue spilled window. He'd now stare at a wallpapered wall. The beige floral paper shot out to him from the deepest depths of his memories. His childhood bedroom had this wallpaper. Reaching out to touch it, he'd withdraw his hand quickly at the sight of his fingers. No longer bony and withered. Youth had re-suppled them. Heart pounding, Robert would roll in his bed, discovering how effortlessly he could turn once more. His thundering heart would nearly jump into his throat as his eyes settled on a woman sitting at the edge of the bed, smiling at him. She was thin girl. Mousy blonde hair bobbed and curled tight. She wore a yellow sundress that fit well on a young woman her age, dark blue eyes that matched his own gleaming down at him with the same amount of astonishment as his own.
"R-Rebecca?" The voice that left Robert's mouth wasn't the gruff voice he had carried for the last three decades, but a much smoother, softer one. The girl would giggle as tears filled her eyes and she'd reach down to embrace him. Robert held her tight. He hadn't seen his sister in nearly 73 years. Not since she had been killed in a car crash when she was just 24 and he was 21. The two held each other for a long time before Robert would pull her away to look at her.
"I can't believe it! How can this be!? Where are we?"
They'd both glance about the room, Robert could feel his breath growing more rapid as each item in the room would bring him back in time. This was his childhood bedroom from their home in Kentucky. From the cut out cartoon funnies he had taped to the walls to the ceramic poodle he always hated that sat on his dresser that his aunt gave him, every thing was just as he remembered.
"We're home." Rebecca would answer softly. Standing to her feet, she'd extend a hand to him. An excited smile pulling at her painted red lips. "Come on, Robbie. They can't wait to see you."
"Who?" Robert would question curiously as he pulled the blankets from his body and took her hand. To his surprise, he could stand with no pain. He wasn't tired or achy anymore. Standing to his feet, his eyes would catch his own reflection in the mirror that hung above his dresser. No longer was he an old man crippled with arthritis and age. His balding head now filled with lush black hair that sat perfectly on his head even though he had just been laying. He was also already dressed. A plaid shirt tucked into his jeans. He'd marvel at the young man who stared back for a long moment before his sister pulled at his hands.
"Let's go, we can't keep them waiting any longer."
"Who's them?" Robert would ask again as he allowed her to pull him along out of the room. Rebecca would giggle once more as she flashed her lively eyes in his direction.
"You'll see!" She peeped and as she lead the way, Robert's eyes tried to focus on every inch and corner of their childhood home. From the creaky wood floor boards, to his mother's contrasting wallpaper and curtain schemes, the memories flooded him like a tidal wave. As they passed by the sitting room, the song Heartaches by Ted Weems played softly on the radio. The kitchen, smelled strongly of fried chicken, a delightful scent that filled the entire small house. With each passing room, Robert longed to linger, but Rebecca pulled him along towards the front door. The closer they got, the more he could hear multiple voices speaking and laughing. The screen door showered in the view of the large shade trees that littered their front yard, stocked full of dark green Summer leaves. He could see something like a ball roll across the front porch. A dog's cheerful bark sounding as claws tapped over the wooden planks quickly, dashing across the screen door after the ball. The pooch was only in sight for a moment but Robert recognized his stubby legs and bushy tail.
"Max!" Robert would laugh. His favorite dog from his late teens. They never went anywhere without each other. Never since Max had he had a dog that quite compared to his loyalty. Despite Rebecca's pulling, Robert would stop dead in his tracks as those on the porch would burst out in simultaneous laughter. There would be one woman's deep cackle that was undenying. One he'd long to hear for about 50 years now...His mother's.
Rebecca would turn about and seem to notice the sudden nervousness in his eyes. She'd cup his hands into hers and offer him her same, sweet smile.
"It's okay. Come on. We've been waiting for you for such a long time. Let's not keep them waiting any longer."
Rebecca would release her hold on Robert's hand. He'd watch with tight throat and trembling body as she approached the screen door and opened it. Gazing out on those outside, she'd speak proudly. "Look who finally got here," The voices outside hushed and Rebecca would look to Robert, nudging her head for him to come out.
With legs suddenly made of jello, Robert was shocked as he found his footing to move forward. Stepping out onto the front porch, Robert would nearly collapse at the sight. His mother, father, brother Roger, and several friends and relatives he hadn't seen in years were sitting in chairs on the front porch. Everyone seemed to get up at once and rush him. Hugging, shaking his hand, kissing him. It was all so overwhelming, and yet he didn't want it to end. How long he'd wish to see his family. He could feel himself laughing and crying at the same time. His heart was so full it could burst. Past the others though, there was one person who stood back patiently for her turn to see him again. In the same blue dress she wore the day she had gotten her picture taken for him, Elizabeth smiled sweetly in his direction. Tears spilling down her pale cheeks.
"Elizabeth," Robert would breathe. His family would pull from him, leaving him a path to his wife in which he took without a second thought. Elizabeth would laugh as he grabbed her up and held her off the ground. Her arms wrapping around him, they'd hold each other tightly. He'd spin her a few times on the porch, his face buried in her copper red hair, taking in her scent. He could hear his family gushing softly over them as he and Elizabeth shared their first passionate kiss since she left him 37 years prior.
Taking his seat on the front porch next to his wife, hand in hand, he'd spend hours catching up her, and everyone else on every thing that had happened since they left. Soon however, they'd all just reminisce on old times. Max, bringing Robert his ball every few minutes for him to chuck it out into the yard. Every seat was filled except for one on the opposite side of Elizabeth.
"Whose seat is that?" Asked Robert, looking about the front yard for another family member. Elizabeth would smile as she'd cast her gaze to the empty chair.
"It's for Daniel...When he comes to visit us someday."
Robert would smile to his wife, squeezing her hand gently. "I can't wait to see him again."
Closing his eyes , Robert took in the sweet summer time smells and the voices of his loved ones that filled the over hang of that long wrap around porch, Robert's heart would swell with joy....Of all the things Robert Mason had done in his last 94 years, dying was the most peaceful.
Last edited: