A story about a woman on her final walk home.
Day 1:
The walk was pleasant enough, with the sky gray and cloudy, just the way she liked it. A cool breeze surrounded her as she kept her eyes on the ground, watching as had become her habit.
Day 2:
A glint of red appeared, as she picked up the small piece of colored glass. Red, like the scarf she used to wear in the winter that blocked the chill of the snow.
Day 3:
Tucking the glass into her bag, she continued on her path. Not far from where she found the first glass, she found another. Orange this time, the glass color as bold as her favorite fall sweater.
Day 4:
The breeze had picked up as she walked, with no end to the road in sight. Yet still she walked on, now hoping to find more bits of glass. She smiled when she spotted a yellow shard, far sunnier than the sky surrounding her.
Day 5:
The green glass matched the shade of grass surrounding it, which was probably why she had almost missed it. But crouching down to retrieve it, she was overcome by the memories of treasure hunting with her little sister.
Day 6:
It must have been hours that she had spent on the road, but she had no watch and her phone had long since died out. But with light still coming through the clouds, she kept moving forward, a new piece of blue glass joining the rest.
Day 7:
Staring up at the sky through the purple glass, she took a moment to stop and rest. She didn’t look back to see how far she’d come, knowing somehow that it looked as endless as the road ahead of her. When the moment was over, she walked again.
Day 8:
She didn’t even see the next piece of glass, kicking it with her shoe and hearing the clinks that followed. Picking it up, she could see the faint cracks, looking very similar to the color and marks of her climbing tree back home.
Day 9:
She stared into her bag, as her latest find glittered amongst the rest. A deeper color than her earliest find, the scarlet glass twinkled in the bit of light that snuck in. With it looking very much like the color her mother used to wear, she smiled at the memory and continued on.
Day 10:
She held up the peach-colored glass to the light, watching as the shard colored the road ahead of her. She remembered doing this, before, in the beach with her siblings, and wondered where they were now.
Day 11:
The clouds swelled and billowed, floating faster across the sky. Rain followed, surrounding her but never touching her. She wasn’t looking at the ground as much anymore, but the road was always in sight.
Day 12:
As she gazed at the olive-colored shard she had just found, a color that had once been her most favorite, her eyes drifted to the wrinkles on her hand, from a life long-lived.
Day 13:
She massaged her knees now and again, the time spent walking seeming in a rush to catch up with her. The thought hung in the air on whether to stop or to keep moving forward.
Day 14:
Whenever she took out or put in one of the shards of glass, the bag always felt heavier on her shoulders. They were hunched over more now than during any moment of her life, but any thought to leave the bag behind was met with pain and sadness.
Day 15:
The rain that had been falling now stopped. With light coming through the clouds, she could sparkles of glass along the road she walked, hinting at the memories she had yet to find.
Day 16:
Casting a ruby-colored shadow over her wrinkled hand, she was reminded of the costume jewelry from her husband. Bright and bold, the jewelry had lasted through many years and lots of child dress-up parties.
Day 17:
A gust of wind came from the direction she was heading, carrying laughter and voices she had long since stopped hearing. The desire to follow the sounds was the only reason she kept moving, when her body was near screaming at her to stop.
Day 18:
As she moved, a new thought entered. What if the road never ended? She had been walking ever so long and the shards of glass brought back memories previously forgotten. They had caused smiles to appear on her face, but was that all her journey would find?
Day 19:
Maybe it was that question, maybe the weather began to change on its own. Either way, the light that had been starting to fill the sky now was retreating behind clouds far darker than any she had seen yet.
Day 20:
The wind whipped around her, slowing her down in the front and pushing her forward from the back. Frail fingers wrapped around the bag strap as her head lowered, trying to protect herself in some way from the wind.
Day 21:
The voices she had heard earlier returned with the wind. Children and grandchildren calling out to her, begging her to come. But with the wind attacking from all sides, she couldn’t tell where the voices were coming from.
Day 22:
She found her feet once more and began walking, inch by inch against the harsh wind. Facing the same direction she had been walking towards this whole time, she trusted that if anything she was going the right way.
Day 23:
If there were any more colored glass shards to be found, she couldn’t see them. The sky was dark, with only enough light to see that road was even still in front of her. As someone long afraid of the dark, she found herself hesitating before taking each new step.
Day 24:
The wind came and left and returned again, a cruel cycle that left her weary. Almost in sync with the wind, her mouth opened and closed without a sound. Whether to cry or not, she could not decide and she feared that if she were to sit down and rest, she would not get up again.
Day 25:
During a frightfully fierce windstorm, she struggled to stand upright. The chilling wind could be felt deep in her bones and with little light, she had no idea of how much further she could or needed to walk.
Day 26:
At that very moment, a ray of light broke through the clouds and all was calm. The light began to spread and the warmth could be felt where previously was only cold. Shading her eyes, she could see a large fence with a peculiar-looking door at the center.
Day 27:
Standing in front of the door, she ran her fingers across the surface, feeling each and every hole carved out. There was no handle, and pulling on the door only weakened her.
Day 28:
Using the door as support while she regained her energy, her gaze fell upon the bag that she had been carrying her entire journey. Looking back up at the holes in the door, she reached into the bag for one of the many shards.
Day 29:
The first hole to match had been the hardest to find. And as each following shard had slipped into place, she found her burden lighter and her pain lessened. When the last shard was placed in the door, the door began to move.
Day 30:
Light and warmth beckoned to her as the door opened up. As she crossed beyond the fence, she was no longer the tired, old woman from her journey’s end. Rather, in crossing, she had returned to her younger self, the cares and struggles left behind.
Day 31:
What had merely been voices during her journey now stood before her with joy written on their faces. Her family, those that had gone before as she remained behind.
Click here to access the rest of the stories from the One Year, Twelve Stories project
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