If This Old Bed of Mine Could Talk!

747 14 11

Our four-poster bed leaned against the fence in the driveway as the yard sale started. We were moving to a garden-home, as the House was getting too big for us now that the children were gone and established in homes of their own. I don’t know why they call garden-home that, there’s no room and you are discouraged have adding plants and the like to the outside. You own the inside of the walls but not the grounds. After all, one must conform to the group’s wishes or the value of the homes may go down. We can’t have purple doors or large cement deer all over the walkways can we?

The House and the bed had fond memories for Edward and me, especially the bed. Ed had asked me a number of times over our forty years of marriage if I wanted a new one and I always replied, “No dear, I’m still happy with this one.” We created our wonderful children in this bed. They slept with us during sickness, loud thunderstorms, and broken hearts. It was our family bed, worn by pillows mounted along the head board to read or watch television and is deeply scratched by teething babies and teething puppies. It was our bed of passion, our bed for fights and making up.

I started walking around to see how my daughters, Rachel & Sally are doing. Years of being married and the gathering of things adds up to a lot of clutter and we can’t take it all with us. I’m proud of my girls as the tables are well organized and broken up it sections; glassware here and pots there. I walk over to Sally and see my favorite vase. The one I bought for my mother with my first babysitting money and I want to keep it. I pointed to it and said quietly in Sally’s ear; I want to keep this one please put it in the keep pile. She smiles and shouts across to Rachel, “Here, we going to keep this one!” Rachel walks over and takes it in her hands. “I remember this one, “Mom put forget me not’s in it.” She smiles at us and gently walks over the box with glass in it and wraps it carefully in tissue. “Thanks Rachel! I’m leaving that to you girls someday but you will have to fight over it.” We smile at each other and both Rachel and Sally start to cry. I didn’t realize that moving out of the old homestead was affecting them so. I’m ashamed; I should have been more considerate. My son Chris was placing the final boxes in the truck and the girls were covering the tables until tomorrow. Our grandchildren are running in and out of the back shed and I asked him where’s Dad and he turned to all of us and said, “Dad’s on the back swing and we should get ready to go!” I said, “He’s right, it’s too hot this afternoon, everyone should get out of the sun!” The girls nod in agreement and they joined me to round up the kids and get their father. We walked around the flowerbeds and found Ed swinging back and forth in the old swing. Why does he look so small today, so fragile and my heart aches. He holding something and I can’t make out what it is, Ed has it wrapped up in his jacket. I bet it’s a surprise for me for the new house. I turn to my beautiful girls and smile at them; “Please look after your father; I’m going to have one more look around the house before we leave.” They smile at their father and I could hear them say, “It’s okay Dad we’ll help you!”

I could see them walking to the front of the house and Ed is holding my present tightly. Gee, I’m getting excited, he knows I love surprises. I enter my kitchen and the house echoes with voices and laughter. I walk slowly through out, checking to see if the windows are locked and they are.

I walk down the hall looking into each room going through my mind's album of memories. I’ve reach the end of the hall, it’s our bedroom and I don’t want to go in. The door is closed tight but somehow I can get in easily. The drapes are still up and pulled closed leaving the room in complete darkness. I can see the outline of our bed but it can’t be it’s outside. I’m getting old but I’m not insane!

My old room becomes a stage and I see myself in bed with my Eddie knelling beside me. He’s kissing my fingers gently as if they were made of tissue and any pressure would tear my skin. I close my eyes hoping that he’ll leave as I need some time to myself. He gets up slowly turning to look at me from the door. Tears are running down his face but I can’t let him know I see him. Can’t have him break down and fall on the bed screaming that it not right, not right at all.

“Should I leave the lights on sweetheart.” He whispers. “No dear, please turn them off I’m getting a headache.” His smile is weak but he turns out the lights.

I’m alone in my beloved bed and I’m listening to my heart beating. My heart that feels so hollow and I scream! I scream, my face twisted in agony but nothing comes out of my voice box. No one comes running into my room to comfort me. My heart, I can hear my screams in my heart! They’re bounding off the bloody walls, running down my veins, rushing, rushing to my head. It hurts so much! Make it stop, please make it stop! I smacked my head against the headboard trying to make the pain go away. I turn my head into the pillow and I scream again!

The room clears away it’s empty again and I turn towards the window as the headlights from outside vehicles are shining in through the drapes. Somehow, I fly out the door. Stop, doesn’t anyone notice! You are leaving me behind! “Wait, Wait for me!” Why doesn’t anyone hear me!

My wonderful bed is leaning against the cedar trees with a posting on it. I read the note over and over again. It can’t be, it just can’t be.

FREE – Looking for a Good Home!

No longer needed!

I stare at the our cars going up the street and I wave. I can see Ed turning around for one last look but I know that he doesn’t see me, he can’t.

Rachel, is holding her father tight, as he unwrap the urn with the plate that reads.

Wife, Mother and Life Long Friend

Mary Rose White

March 15, ….

Gone but not forgotten!

May 5, 2012

Why I Hate Rocking Chairs and Other Short Stories of the ParanormalRead this story for FREE!