Out of the Past

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CAP811
CAP811
226 Followers

*******

Several days later I returned home. The county sent a nurse each day to nag me about getting exercise and taking my new medication. She as well as Dr. Prescott commented on my mood. I was withdrawn; seemed preoccupied. That's normal, they said. But you need to develop a more positive attitude.

They couldn't have known. That deep in the past had lived a boy who somehow saved the life of a man in the present time. That I had, it seems, a guardian angel.

I now spent more time than ever on my porch. I knew that sooner or later I would see the boy, and I did. It came on a perfect April evening just after the sun had set. By the fading blue light of day I saw him approach on his bicycle. It was an old Western Flyer, maroon with white-sidewall tires and a safety light. A nice bike.

The boy was still wearing his newsboy cap, now with a wide-collared plaid shirt and dungarees. He slowed a bit as he approached the house. My heart pounding, I nodded to him, then waved. He returned the wave, a smile on his face. And then continued on. His smile said he was just out for an evening ramble, and had decided to ride by his neighbor's house. That's all.

A few days later as I was relaxing on the porch, an SUV pulled into my driveway. The driver was Clara Heinrich's granddaughter Jessica, who got out and helped the old woman from the passenger side of the vehicle.

"Afternoon, Clara, Jessica," I greeted the two women.

"Hello, Dennis," Clara said as she slowly labored up to the porch, "I brought you some of that jello salad you like so well. Thought I might visit a while if you like."

"I'd be pleased. Have a seat in this rocker, it's more comfortable."

The old woman took the chair and instructed her granddaughter to come pick her up in an hour. After Jessica had left, we sat in silence for a while, drinking iced tea and watching white clouds drift across the sky.

Finally Clara spoke. "I've heard funny stories about your heart attack. I was wonderin' if you'd tell me what happened. And anything else you'd like to talk about."

For the next few minutes I recounted all my strange experiences. Finally I told her about the heart attack; the boy who had saved me; and how I had later seen him pass by my house.

As I spoke, tears began to flow down the old woman's cheeks; at first she seemed unaware of them, but after a moment she took out a handkerchief and dabbed them away.

There was silence after I had finished. Still wiping away the tears, Clara then said in a tremulous voice, "Th' boy you saw was named Harold Denson. When I lived here in this house, me and his older brother Johnnie was sweet on each other. Johnnie used to come visit me, late in the afternoon, and we'd sit on this porch. Over seventy years ago."

A smile crossed the woman's face. "Harold would ride by on that bicycle, grin and wave at us, and Johnnie would get so mad. Harold was younger than me, but I think he had a kinda crush on me."

"Such a sweet boy, he was. Went off to war, and like Helen Reinart's husband, never come back. I ain't thought of Harold in fifty years, but as soon as you described him, I knew who it was. No question in my mind."

The old woman turned and stared intently at me. Her eyes, pale and watery, now had a baleful look. In a low voice she said, "You come back here with your head full of stories of the old times. And you renovated this old house, brought it back to life."

"Somehow when you done that, its past came back to life too. All the people who lived here; the folks who lived around here and was their neighbors."

My mouth as dry as sand, I said, "When they greet me, are they really seeing me?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's just an echo of what happened over and over in years gone by, folks sayin' hello to each other. But the past somehow knows you're here, and looks after you. Wants to keep you and this house alive. It's almost like they're your neighbors now. So when you had that heart attack, someone from the past went for help."

The old woman sighed. "There's an awful lot about the world we don't know. This house ain't haunted. It's just that people who live in a house become part of it, as much as the stonework and wood trim. Does it bother you?"

"No. It did at first, but not now. Especially after my heart attack."

A wry grin crossed the old woman's face. "Folks at church talk about how lonesome you must be out here all by yourself. Guess you're not all by yourself after all."

"No," I said, nodding in agreement, "I've company enough."

After Clara had left I sat on the porch, enjoying another sunset. Now and then I could hear the restful tick-tock of a grandfather clock in the living room, even though I own no such clock.

But now I know. I am certain that the past is not gone forever. It lies around us in secret places just out of sight. And to the right person at the right time, it reveals itself.

My life is enriched by living in both the present and the past. The years gone by have closed around me, and are now as familiar as my rocking chair. But I have only a brief time here before I too become part of the past.

Perhaps someone else will then make this place a home, and I can be a spectral neighbor to them. But I'm in no hurry for that, mind you. No hurry at all.

CAP811
CAP811
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PurplefizzPurplefizzabout 2 months ago

There are things in this life we cannot explain, in my small town, we have the Old Lady in a red coat, that just stops to rest awhile on a garden wall, people see her, look away then look back and she’s gone. A close friend worked on the restoration of a house dating back to the 1300’s, every morning all of his tools had been moved to another room, along with a small girls giggle periodically during the day, him being the only living soul in the house of course. There are so many documented experiences like this and so many more that appear in no books or records at all. There is more to our world than any of us know.

FaithfulToWifeFaithfulToWife12 months ago

Just wow. What is this story not in a book?

artblueartblueabout 3 years ago

Damn...that's a good one.....

oldpantythiefoldpantythiefover 3 years ago
A jewel!!!

Loved this story from the start to the finish. Very well written and it tells such a beautiful story. It reminded me of my ties to Oklahoma from the long past. I had an Aunt and Uncle that lived on a dirt poor farm somewhere around Woodward Ok in the early 50s. The place hadn't seen paint on it for a long time, if ever. Kind of had to step down to get into it but that didn't bother my brother and I. We would come down from Wichita and spend a couple of summers there with them. We always had a great time just being there. We would pick wild plumbs and my Aunt would make jelly out of them. Best tasting jelly ever. Yeah, a much different life back then. All gone now and so sad.

rightbankrightbankabout 8 years ago
a great story

makes you stop and think. one of the things you learn in life is that to some questions there are no answers. to some questions it is better to not ask. in this case the answers provide the questions.

thanks for writing

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