 |
GRANDPA'S WINGS
By Erin McCarty Copyright © 2000
Joey and Grandpa were best friends. They went for walks together. They sipped hot cocoa together by the fireplace. They had long talks together on the creaky old porch swing under the stars. And every night that Joey slept over, they knelt by the big feather bed together and had a chat with Mister God.
Mister God was a very good friend of Grandpa's, and Joey was very proud that Grandpa included him in his talks with Mister God. One time, Joey wanted to know why Mister God only talked to Grandpa and never to him.
“Well,” Grandpa replied, “turns out Mister God’s got a lot to say to you. Thing is, he don’t talk real loud, so you got ta listen real close. It takes a lot of practice. I can hear ‘im cause,well, cause me an’ Mister God, we been friends a long time.”
“Oh, what’s he say to me?” Joey asked.
“Funny thing about that,” Grandpa scratched his head. “Y’see, Joey, Mister God talks so quiet most times ya can’t hear ‘im ‘less he’s talkin’ ta you.”
So every night Joey listened, hoping he would hear what Mister God had to say,but he just couldn’t seem to do it. Still, he refused to give up.
“Maybe tomorrow night,” he would yawn. “G’night, Mister God. G’night, Grandpa.” And Grandpa would tuck the thick homemade quilt around Joey’s shoulders and gently say what he always said.
“Sleep well, little Joey. May your dreams be filled with sunshine.”
One night while Joey was at Grandpa’s house, he was awakened in the middle of the night by a strange noise outside his window. He crept over to the window and looked out. Directly below him at the foot of a giant oak lay a little white bird.
“Grandpa!” he shouted, hastily stepping into his slippers. “Grandpa, come quick!” The light in Grandpa’s room came on and Grandpa appeared, rubbing his eyes.
“Joey, what’s wrong?” Grandpa asked. Joey grabbed him by the hand and led him to the window. Then he pointed at the bird.
“Well, now,” Grandpa remarked, “good thing you saw this little fella when you did. Looks ta me like he fell outta his nest. Now, you just stay right here, an’ I’ll go bring ‘im in here. Then we’ll see what we can do to fix ‘im up.”
Moments later, Grandpa reappeared with the little bird cradled in his hands. “I think he’s gonna make it,” Grandpa told Joey. “Broke ‘is wing, but it should heal with a little help.”
“What kind of bird is he?” Joey wanted to know.
“Why, he’s a dove. Doves are a symbol of peace, y’know,” Grandpa added.
“A cymbal of peace?” Joey giggled. “How could such a little bird make such a loud noise? And loud noises aren’t peaceful, they’re scary!”
“Not that kinda cymbal, Joey,” Grandpa chuckled. “A symbol is something that means something else.”
“Oh,” Joey nodded. “I get it.” He followed Grandpa downstairs and sat down on the couch, where he watched Grandpa put a splint on the bird’s wing. As he stared at the operation, his eyelids began to droop. Soon he was sleeping soundly. Joey awoke the next morning still in the living room. The dove was huddled in a birdcage which Grandpa had brought down from the attic. On the front of the cage, Grandpa had nailed a small wooden plaque that had the word ‘SNOW’ carved into it.
“That’s a good name, Grandpa,” Joey told Grandpa, who was in the kitchen making breakfast. “He’s white, just like the snow.” Joey paused, then said slowly, “Grandpa, Snow looks pretty sad. What’s wrong? Doesn’t he like us?”
“Oh, no, Joey,” Grandpa shook his head. “He likes us just fine. Trouble is he’s cooped up in that itty bitty ol’ cage with a busted-up wing. I mean, have you ever thought about what it’s like ta fly?”
“Oh, sure. Lotsa times!” Joey spread his arms and twirled around. “I think it would be about the greatest thing in the world!”
“Then I bet you’d be real bummed out if you were just about ready ta fly and suddenly you couldn’t,” Grandpa continued.
“Yeah,” Joey agreed, “I guess I would. So we gotta take real good care of Snow so he can fly someday, right?”
“Well, Joey,” Grandpa promised, “we’re sure gonna try.”
After that, Joey came to see Grandpa even more often than before. He would open the door to Snow’s cage and hold out his finger. At first, Snow nipped him with his tiny beak. But after a few days, Snow began to trust Joey. When Joey held out his finger, Snow would rub up against it with his soft, feathery head, cooing all the while. Then, one day, Joey held out his finger and Snow hopped onto it.
“Grandpa!” Joey shouted. “Look!” Grandpa hurried in, but Joey’s shouts had startled Snow back into his cage. “Oops. Well, Snow was sitting on my finger, but he went back inside.” Joey saw that Grandpa was smiling, but he seemed sad just the same. “Grandpa, what’s the matter?” he asked.
“I gotta tell ya somethin’, Joey.” Grandpa hesitated. “Why don’t we sit down on the couch?”
Grandpa waited until they were both seated before he spoke again. “Joey, I went to the doctor today. Turns out I got somethin’ called cancer.”
“What’s that?” Joey inquired.
“Well, it’s sorta like a little monster,” Grandpa explained. “And the monster lives in my body. It started out real little, but it kept on growin’. It‘s too big now fer me ta kick it out, an’ it ain’t done growin’ yet. Someday ‘fore too long, it’s gonna kick me outta my own body.”
“That’s not fair!” Joey yelled. “It’s your body! Where are you gonna get a new one?”
“I’m not,” Grandpa shook his head slowly. “We only get one body and everyone loses theirs sometime.”
“Oh.” Joey considered this new information. “What happens then?”
“Then,” Grandpa replied gently, “I die.”
“Die?” Though Joey was a great big six-year-old boy, he suddenly felt very small. He had heard this strange word before, and something about it made him shiver with dread even though he didn’t really know what it meant.
“Yes, Joey. It means that my body’ll stop workin’. It won’t be able ta give you hugs or ruffle your hair ! “ Grandpa ran his finger down Joey’s tear-streaked face. “or wipe away your tears. So your mama’ll put my body in a real fancy box an’ bury it under the ground. But that won’t bother me none. Y’know why?” Joey sniffled and shook his head. “Well, Joey, it’s cause I’ll already be livin’ somewhere else, somewhere where I won’t need my body no more.”
“Where?” Joey asked with interest.
“With Mister God,” Grandpa answered. “And when I go to live with Mister God, I’ll be invisible like him. But y’know what? I’ll be watchin’ you all the time, no matter where you are,so in a way I’ll be with you even more than I am now.”
“Well,” Joey sniffed, “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. Will I ever see you again?”
“You bet,” Grandpa nodded. “But hopefully it won’t be fer a long time. You got yerself a nice long life ahead of ya here on Earth afore ya go ta Heaven. But you can still talk ta me whenever ya want and I’ll hear ya. And if ya listen real close, ya might just hear me talkin’ back.”
Having heard this, Joey wasn’t quite so scared anymore. He visited Grandpa every single day. Each day, Grandpa seemed just a little bit sicker. Then, one day, it happened. Grandpa was lying on the couch, coughing, and Joey was sitting next to him. Suddenly, Grandpa pointed to Snow’s cage.
“What is it, Grandpa?” Joey asked.
“Time,for Snow,to fly,” Grandpa rasped. “Open,back,door.”
Obediently, Joey slid the back door open. Then, very slowly, he opened Snow’s cage. There were tears in Joey’s eyes as once again he felt the firm grip of the dove’s claws on his finger.
“Go on,” he whispered. With one backward glance, Snow took to the air and flew gracefully out the door. “I love you, Snow,” Joey called out through his tears as the bird disappeared into the puffy white clouds.
“Did you see that, Grandpa? He flew! He actually flew! Grandpa?” Grandpa looked very strange. Joey looked into his eyes and gasped. They were as dull and lifeless as a couple of marbles. “Oh,” Joey said softly. “You’re not there anymore, are you? I guess it was time for you to fly away, too.”
That night, Joey kneeled by his own bed at home and spoke to Mister God.
“Mister God,” he prayed, “you sure are lucky. You get to have Grandpa up there in Heaven with you. Take good care of ‘im for me, okay? And next time you talk to ‘im, tell ‘im that I love ‘im.”
And as Joey drifted off to sleep, he heard Grandpa’s voice ringing in his ears with an echo as loud as thunder and soft as a whisper.
“Sleep well, little Joey. May your dreams be filled with sunshine.”
And they were.
Your impressions, responses and comments are invited. Please sign the guest book.
or write Erin personally
Return to Erin's Home Page
Return to Bubba's Famous Web Stop
|
