The Long Road Home
Meghan Zeb
Copyright 2012 Meghan Zeb
Cover by Meghan Zeb
When I woke in the gray light of dawn, I forgot that I had dreamed of my death. I burrowed deeper under my comforter, rolled over, and came face to face with my husband. The familiar rush of discontent and other confused feelings washed through me.
I felt like I still loved my husband in some ways and definitely our son Christopher, but I couldn’t help wishing some things were different. In the kitchen, I measured out my favorite coffee and let it brew as I ate a couple of handfuls of dry cereal. Snow fell outside, thick and fast, and I didn’t relish driving in it to get to work.
As I munched on my cereal, I reflected on the past few months. My job continues to be mundane and when I’m there I can hardly wait to get home. When I’m home, I’m mostly happy to just sit and play with Christopher. Lately, though, I can’t help wondering what my life would be like if I’d known what I had wanted when I was in college, or if I had traveled to all the places I wanted to see. So many of my friends have been able to do just that, but I was one of the first to get married, have a child, and settle down. I feel some regret at marrying Mark so early, but how could I have known my outlook on life would shift? That twinge of longing had increased its intensity lately making me question things in my life.
I put bread in to toast and got the peanut butter out for Chris just as my husband came into the room. Squinting and yawning, he ran a hand through his dark hair, making it stand even more on end.
“Morning,” he mumbled. The snow was beginning to coat the sidewalk and streets as we watched. “School is cancelled for Chris. Do you have to go in? The forecast is saying that it’s supposed to continue for most of the day,” Mark said while pouring cereal. Even our concerned comments sounded false lately.
“I should try anyway. I can’t afford to miss any more days,” I said, pouring orange juice for Chris. “I’m going to get ready to go and see if Chris is ready to get up.”
In his room, he lay curled on his side on his Star Wars sheets, thumb in his mouth. He was a miniature Mark in looks, except for his eyes. His eyes were mine with their brown and green-flecks. The year before, when he was in kindergarten, he told me the teacher was helping them with numbers. When he came home and stared into my eyes, counting the flecks of green in them. He told me if we could connect-the-dots between the flecks in our eyes we would always be together.
I brushed a hand over his head. “Hey, honey, Mommy’s leaving for work. Daddy’s downstairs waiting for you to have breakfast with him.”
He held his arms out to me, and I leaned down for my morning hug, wishing I could stay home and lie here with him. “Mommy, can I have peanut butter toast?” he asked.
I smiled at his wheedling tone. “It’s all ready for you downstairs.” With a cheer, he leaped out of bed. He dressed himself and the end result was his shirt buttoned crookedly and one sock on inside out.
“Be careful, Kate. The roads don’t look so good,” Mark said as I prepared to leave, showing more worry about me than I had seen lately.
I gave him a brief smile and promised to be careful. Outside, I looked up into a cloud of white and snowflakes stuck to my eyelashes. Everything looked so clean. I backed out of the driveway, and as I drove slowly down our tree-lined street, my thoughts again flicked guiltily back to what could have been. I wanted some adventure in my life, and I want to be able to work from home writing and illustrating children’s books. Losing sight of that dream was disappointing, and I continued to dwell on it more and more. I could go to Paris and draw the Eiffel Tower from my hotel room window, I could go to Ireland and draw a wind-swept field of green, or I could sit at an outdoor café in Australia and draw the crowds of people.
With so many thoughts ricocheting in my mind, my car began to slide on the slick road. I felt utter panic as I tried to pump the brakes and jerk the wheel of the car away from the side of the road and the slope of hill that lay beyond. I screamed as my car fought against my ministrations and went sliding over the embankment. No thoughts came as I turned upside down, and everything went black after a resounding crash broke the stillness of the morning.
The next thing I knew, I was aware of labored breathing, bitter cold, and absolute silence. I cracked open my eyes. I rolled over slowly, unsure of where I was. The first thing I noticed was the trees; bare branches stretching toward the sky.
“What happened?” I groaned to myself. I felt a trickle of wetness on my forehead and reached up to find snow clinging to my hair and beginning to melt and slide down my face.
“Oh my God!” I cried, as the sight of my car upside down came into focus. Blue and red lights flashed up above, people were running down the slope, and there was a lot of yelling. I saw paramedics with a stretcher reach my car.
At that point, I fully realized what had happened. “I’m over here!” I yelled.
No one even glanced over. Confused, I carefully made my way over toward them.
“Please, help me.” I tried again, waving my arms. Again, I was ignored.
I reached my car and kneeling down, glanced inside. There was nothing I could do to stop the scream that ripped from my throat as I saw myself still strapped in the car, nearly lifeless. Blood slid down from a gash at my temple. I touched my face and there was nothing, yet there was blood on the face of the woman in the car.
“Who, what…” I managed to gasp as the paramedics all knelt around me, reaching into the car.
A soft voice whispered into my ear. “Kate, I will explain, but we need to move.”
I spun around, and there before me was a faint outline of a tiger. “Okay, I have to be dreaming,” I whimpered.
“I am your spirit guide, Kate. I’m here to lead you through the journey you need to take. You are in spirit form and your earthly body is still in that car, waiting to be saved,” the tiger said. Its mouth didn’t move, but I heard its voice clear as a bell.
I looked back at the car and saw myself being loaded onto the stretcher, my hand dangling off the side. My wedding ring glinted in the pale light, as if to mock me. I watched the paramedics struggle up the snowy hill.
“Am I dead?” I whispered. Snow began falling again, and the cold air whistled through the bare branches of the trees.
“No. And I don’t know if you will die or not. I’m just here to help you journey through time.” The tiger was still just the faintest outline, but I felt it come toward me until a faint feathery touch brushed against my leg.
Laying my hand where I thought the tiger to be, I closed my eyes to gather my bearings. When I opened them, my mouth dropped open. I was standing in my backyard, and the sun was shining warm and bright. Daffodils and impatiens splashed color over the yard, and the grass was so green and inviting. A bee buzzed by my ear.
I looked over my shoulder and there was Mark framed in the doorway, holding the birdhouse I had asked him to fix two summers ago. “Hey, hon?” he yelled. “Do you want me to repaint it, too?”
“Yeah, it could use a new coat,” my voice called from the garden. A jolt of surprise made me turn and there I was, kneeling in the grass with Chris by my side. I recognized this, what had happened that day, two years ago.
Drawn to move closer, I did so and heard Chris sniffling. He was holding his foot, tears trickling down his cheeks.
“Mommy, it hurts,” he cried. I watched myself wielding the tweezers, trying to pull the stinger out of his foot, but he was squirming around.
“Okay, Chris, let me have your tears,” I said, still cupping his foot, and now holding out a cupped hand for his tears. He stopped crying and stared at me, confused.
“I want to take all your pain away, now and forever. If
you give me your tears, it might not hurt as much. I will take very good care of them,” I said calmly. Intrigued, he leaned toward me, holding his little face close to my hand. With the edge of my finger, I gently lifted a tear off his cheek and we watched as the light cast a little rainbow in it. As he watched me press the tear to my heart, I quickly pulled the stinger out with my other hand.
Surprise crossed his face and then a smile curved his mouth. “That barely hurt, Mommy! You were right!”
Pulled back from the tender scene, I felt my spirit guide press up against my leg. “No, I don’t want to go yet,” I said quickly.
“It’s time; we’re not done,” the tiger said.
I closed my eyes and when I opened them again, I saw myself a year ago sitting on the floor in our basement, crying over the death of our rabbit. The clock chimed at midnight, and Mark noiselessly padded down the stairs. I had tried to be quiet, to grieve in peace, thinking he would find it