The crowd silenced as the fireworks captured their full attention. Pop. Pop. Pop.
I wondered if that was the last thing Angela heard.
She was killed by three gunshots, according to the news.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
EIGHTEEN2016
The Commune
Dream
Brother Jim was a well-muscled man, his workout routine one he followed religiously, of average height with an early receding hairline, long, dark hair that hung past his shoulders, and cunning eyes, who looked older than his thirty years. What he lacked in looks he made up for in charm and speaking skills, a charismatic individual who could talk you into almost anything, and for some people, absolutely anything.
I had the looks, at least that’s what everyone in our family said, and girls always preferred me to Jim Bob, but I am five years younger than him. What I didn’t have were the people skills, the manipulative ways he possessed. When I was younger it angered me that he could talk his way out of most situations, even though at times this benefited me, as well. As we aged, I realized that anger didn’t serve me well and I chose to embrace what his skills brought to me, instead of being jealous. This was a much more optimal state of being in my world. Even though Jim Bob and I were cousins, in many ways we were almost brothers. Grandmother raised both of us right here in this house during different periods of time when our parents weren’t around to care for us. Sometimes only him, sometimes only me, and sometimes we lived here together, as we did now. We didn’t always get along, then or now ups and downs are normal for any family.
Today the family planted carrots, tomatoes, and peppers in the garden, adding to our already lush Eden. Gardening was Sunny’s passion. She loved getting her fingers into the soil, lovingly placing a delicate life source into the ground. When I attended Berkeley, years ago, I studied Philosophy. In a way I found its teachings intertwined with the act of gardening. Belief in something so minuscule in the beginning, some barely a seed, or an idea, depending on which subject, and confidence that the tiny speck will develop into a blooming plant, or thought, producing bounty for you and others. Doesn’t this show the truth in both an intellectual and physical state? Every good thing in life starts with a thought and then the follow-up causes said thought to become a reality. There may be no strong logic in the beginning, only a lingering thought which does not diminish, urging us on to create, or initiate creation, of something beautiful.
Brother Jim watched us planting in the expanded garden from his second-story bedroom. Nobody else noticed him as they were busy with the task at hand, and he stood back from the window, so his presence wasn’t obvious. I felt his beady eyes boring into me.
And I stared back at him.
NINETEEN2023
Aimee
Archie and I sat at the kitchen table eating western omelets and fresh fruit for breakfast. I speared a chunk of honeydew and mindlessly chewed it. Archie’s phone beeped.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
He read the text. “John. He’s stopping by to help me fix that leaky sink.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You two are becoming best friends.”
He laughed, his eyes crinkling. “Kind of like you and Robin.”
“I like her,” I replied.
“What’s the deal between her and John? Things seemed a little odd between them.”
“They went out once. He wants to go out again, but she’s not interested.”
“Why not? Is there something wrong with him?”
I pondered the question. Was there? I’d been thinking about this since I met John and still didn’t know the answer. Archie certainly didn’t seem to have any hesitation about him. I wasn’t exactly thrilled he would be in our house later today. Maybe I hadn’t given the guy a chance though, and I was judging him too harshly.
“She’s just not into him,” I said. “You know how it is. You either have a connection with someone, or you don’t.”
He nodded. “I guess that’s true. Oh, there was news about Angela’s murder on the news this morning. You were in the shower when it was on.”
“What?”
“It seems she had a relationship with a married man in Elmville for the past year. They’re questioning him and his wife.”
“Really?” My interest piqued. “Anything else?”
“That’s it for now,” he said. “So, at least if it was affair-related there’s no psycho wandering around killing people in town.”
I took a bite of omelet. “Thank goodness. A psycho is the last thing this town needs.”
The early evening sky, streaked with pink and white, stretched out above me as I stood up, arching my back, after being hunched over for so long picking green beans. The loud trill of tree frogs surrounded me in the otherwise calm evening. Nature can be noisy in its own special way.
The beans were out of control, so much more bountiful than any other I’d planted in the past. Locals said Pennsylvania soil in this area was especially rich for farming. I guess that was why we were experiencing such a harvest. Not that I was complaining.
A sweetness lingered in the air. Honeysuckle grew wild behind the garden, filling the area with its fragrance. I moved my limbs to the sky, soaking in the oxygen of Mother Earth and feeling her vibrancy racing through my strong body. I felt energized, like I was one with the nature surrounding me. Peace flickered inside me. One of the most important elements in life to me? Peacefulness.
Some say love is the most important and powerful emotion one can experience in life and while I do agree love is integral to a satisfying human experience, I’d venture to say peacefulness has far more importance.
Peace within yourself. Peace in your environment. Peace with those around you. Peace allows you to slow down, listen and absorb what is in your world and how you can relate to the world. It gives you the power to contemplate, plan, and act on ideas swirling in your mind. Peace gives you clarity. I’d lived without peace for too many years to know how important it is to cultivate and nurture.
I bent over to attend to the beans once more. I only had one row left to do. I’d keep a bowl for our refrigerator and the rest would go to the store with me tomorrow to sell. I was on my own tonight. Archie had Back-to-School Night and wouldn’t be home until after nine.
Today had been cloudy, so evening seemed to descend earlier than normal. I hurried down the last row, finally putting the last of the beans in my bushel basket. I plopped down in the grass behind the garden, facing the back of our house, and began cleaning them, snapping the ends of the beans off, breaking them in half and placing them into the large bowl I’d brought out from the kitchen.
Lightning bugs began to appear, their small lights dotting the darkening sky. I snapped beans and admired our home. The hayfields to the left were neatly cut, thanks to John, but the right side and along the back of the yard was surrounded by tall cornstalks with deep green leaves; while Archie enjoyed the vast views when all the fields were cut, I rather liked the closed in, cozy feeling the tall corn afforded to us. Just Archie and I in our little nest.
I expected we would grow old here in our farmhouse, on our land. Maybe we would have children one day. We weren’t ready yet, but who knew what the future held for us. Maybe it would just be us; the thought of children wasn’t something I was sure I wanted, after my childhood. I was certain I wanted to be here though, in this place, with Archie. Thirty years from now would I still be sitting on the grass on a humid summer night snapping green beans and watching lightning bugs light up the sky? I hoped so.
