by thisismypicture

Dropped off on the curve
By my father
Without promise of a future
Not sure where to go
Ahead of me, a few Christmas pines
Swaging in the wind as the sun sinks into the grey blue sky
I look around
Leaving the roadside best to get out of this area and head towards the woods for shelter for the night.
I walk onwards on the dry brown ground stepping on fallen branches and pine needles.
A cabin ahead
Old and used
Once bright blue – but faded over time and rain.
Out of my heart, not a feeling of fear but familiarity.
I have been to this place before
Not recognizing it at first glance
Unsure who I know lives here or if I know them
Should I go up and knock? Who would answer and what should I say?
30 secs felt like 5 minutes of thinking, looking at the cabin, analyzing.
I swallow a breath and walked up the steps
Clutching my jumbo bag and things, I knocked
And knocked again.
I held my breath and waited
At first, in my heart – “it’s empty”
Gladness mixed with disappointment as I was glad to avoid an awkward situation but disappointed that no one came to the door. That quickly faded as sound of movements came from the inside of the cabin.
“Stomp, stomp” – footsteps..
The door opens
I stare at the face of an old woman, a hag with grey hair and a sharp face.
Her sharp features turned round when she curved her lips into a smile.
“Hello, my dear! You must be freezing! Quickly! Come inside!”
She opened the door and beckoned me in. I felt instance warmth from the over blazing heaters as well as from the warmth of her heart(h).
“Your dad called earlier to let me know that he was going to drop you off today. I’m glad you got here alright. Have you eaten yet?”
I shook my head
She quickly turned to the stove and started to whip up something for me.
I kept staring at her, “Who is this woman?!” slowly… Not memories but feelings came to me. Feelings of a familiar warmth as I sat at her kitchen table and then others followed…
Gingerbread cookies
And most importantly love.
A kindred love
A deep unconditional love for me just because I was born.
“Aunt…… Sylvia?”
Immediately in my eyes – white hair momentarily turned brown, wrinkles faded from the eyes and the mouth, vintage pictures from the 70s when people still wore retro glasses flooded through my mind: Dedication service, christmas, my first birthday, and then nothing.

My dad didn’t drop me off at a scary place but right here in front of Aunt Sylvia’s house. Someone he trusted, and knows would take care of me. Most importantly loves me.

I am unsure when He would be back here to pick me up for another adventure, but I am glad that He dropped me off HERE for now.

– In dedication to MCAC