A Forgotten Whisper

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I feel like Goldilocks when the perfect porridge slides down her throat and safety covers her as she dozes off in just the right bed.

Before hopping into Emmie's Volkswagen Beetle, Matt pulls up. He hands me my nana's list.

"Hey! Once you're done with Emmie, Grid, I need you to go back to the house and give nana her meds. Emmie, is it okay if you drive her home?" asking Em hesitatingly because the drive is a long one.

"Oh, it's fine. I wanted to stop by and visit Retta anyways." Retta is the nickname for her full name, Henrietta. She only allows us to call her that because of her love: Henry down the road. Henry and Henrietta... Heard of anything cuter? I think not! His nickname for her is Retta because he can't bring himself to saying anything other and now Henrietta can't hear her own name without protest.

"Ah, thank you so much. Grid, I have one more hour then I'm picking up Jay and we're going shoe and grocery shopping," he says with a small smile.

"Oh Matt he will love that!" I exclaim with deep surprise, "If you can, try and find ones that light up for him. And don't forget about Ezekiel bread!"

"I'll try and gotcha. See ya ladies," and as fast he drove in, he's driving away with black smoke leaking out of the engine and my heart grateful that he decided to think of Jay.

We hop in and I turn on her fancy bluetooth feature. I press my name and turn on my chilled playlist from my phone. The whole car ride with Emmie consisted of questions about Luke, asking how we began. It was actually difficult to answer. I didn't know how we really started besides the fact that one stormy night his frumpy uncle came home with two boys in his backseat and I happened to take a peculiar notice.

It was a rainy evening where the rain pitter pattered for a while, drip-dropping on leaves, making makeshift homes until they fell to form muddy puddles. Then the rain would swell inside the clouds and explode across the land. Lightning cracking quickly across the skies with thunder right on its tail. I was sitting on the front porch swing, stroking Jay's hair gently while watching God's power reign across the countryside. He would point towards every bolt and scream in delight. Jay wasn't one of those kids that shied away from storms or danger or emotions. Things typical kids try to avoid. He tried skateboarding when he was six because he saw Tony Hawk on TV and wanted to overcome deathly falls like him, he desired to climb the tallest trees on our land when Matt and I told him not to, and he loved watching action movies, especially Jason Bourne bounding away from awful men with guns. His innocence mixed together with these interests always made me giggle. He loved watching men seek justice on TV through torture and bullets but then any violence in nature brought him to tears. When a coyote would kill a rabbit, when birds would fight over bird seed, when chickens would disappear during the night, or when possums were found dead on the side of the road, he would squeeze his tear-filled eyes and burrow his head in my side. He was tough, but he was tender.

There was something so intriguing to Jay about lightning and thunder that almost comforted him. That he knew his feet were secured to the ground and that nothing could hurt him. That God created the skies and their wet displays. He trusted Him to water the earth and create mighty atmospheres in people's lives.

As we sat on the porch, Ted Fletcher drove up in his big black truck, spewing mud out of his back tires. Past our front driveway, he turned into his across the way. He stopped abruptly and opened his door to slam it back brutally. Two tall boys crawled out of the other side door and hustled back to the bed of the truck. They heaved two suitcases out and one punched the other, the one with the glasses, playfully on the shoulder. I could tell Ted was disgruntled by their presence and the enduring rain. They rushed inside to avoid as much wetness as possible and poof, they were out of eyesight.