This breath is taken

When I was a little boy, one of my most favorite things in the whole wide world was to crawl up on my Mamaw's four-post bed and slide over to the window. She kept her bed pushed against the wall on one side to keep me from rolling off onto the floor at night because it was at least a four-foot drop to those hardwood oak floors in that old Alabama farmhouse. I would lay across the bed with my head nearest the window and my dog, Winnie, would lay right beside me. Mamaw would get on the other side of Winnie and she would raise the window so we could hear the crickets and frogs and catch the night breeze.

At night, it was really dark on the farm. There were no outside lights and once MaMaw turned off the bedroom light, it was dark in her room, except for a nightlight she kept plugged in just for me. I was the oldest of her dozen grandchildren at six years old and I was the only boy. On a clear, Alabama night, you could see the Milky Way. MaMaw would point out the different stars to me and tell me their names. She would show me how some of the stars formed constellations and she would tell me their names and what they meant too. I learned a lot about the stars from her. I never knew how she knew so much about such things until I was much older and she was gone.

Sometimes, we would see a shooting star, and MaMaw would get so excited. We would have to sit up in the bed and quickly make a wish. Then we would say our nighttime prayers and she always made a point of asking for protection for the soldiers and sailors around the world who couldn't be home with their families on such a beautiful night. Then MaMaw would close the window, leaving it open just a crack, and we would crawl under the covers and go to sleep.

My PaPaw would wake me up about 4 o'clock in the morning and he and I would sit in the dining room and eat breakfast alone. My MaMaw would have already left for work sometime during the night but before midnight. She was a registered nurse at the local paper mill and she worked the 3rd shift. About the time, PaPaw me finished tending to their cows and chickens, MaMaw would arrive at the end of their long driveway, after a co-worker had dropped her off. I don't know exactly how long that driveway was, but it was every bit a half-mile long if not longer.

Once MaMaw got home, we had to be very quiet so she could get her sleep. That meant PaPaw and me stayed in the den or outside until after 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Only then was I allowed to talk in a normal voice. By then, I had so much to say, my words usually came out too fast and unintelligible. I can remember on more than one occasion, my MaMaw telling me to take a deep breath and think about what I wanted to say, then choose my words and then say those words slowly.

I'll never forget when I turned sixteen and I was visiting them. Their neighbor's granddaughter was in town too. I don't ever remember noticing her the way I noticed her that summer. I can remember it like it was yesterday. It was May of 1956 and it was a sunny day and she was wearing something called a sundress. It was green with a purple flower sewn on the front of it. MaMaw was watching me when I first noticed her and she told me later she was afraid I was going to burst by the way I held my breath so long. Then she smiled and pulled me over to her and bid me have a seat next to her on the porch swing.

MaMaw held my hand and told me that humans are fortunate because, among the many blessings we are gifted, we are given an infinite number of special breaths. Those are breaths that are never forgotten. They can be good or they can be bad. These breaths are tied to special occasions like your first kiss, the first time you fall in love, the first time you hold your own child, and those times when someone you love departs you. They don't happen all the time, but when they do, it's important to notice them, because they are truly a blessing. MaMaw said I believe you had a special breath earlier when you saw her, didn't you? Well, of course, I turned red from embarrassment but I nodded my head yes.

I grew up and became older and I never forgot the things my MaMaw taught me. When I was away at war in Vietnam, I remembered the stars and constellations she taught me, and those memories saved my life on more than one occasion. My most favored memories were those of special breaths. There were many. The day I married and each time my children were born are all special breath moments.

Now, as an old man, I look back and recall my memories and I've noticed something. With each memory I can recall, there was a special breath moment. Odd isn't it? Before I go further, I realize I haven't fully described what constitutes a special breath. Old age does that, makes you forgetful sometimes. I'm willing to bet that by now, you already have some idea of what makes up a special breath, but I will rely on the words of my MaMaw since she did a mighty fine job of explaining the meaning to me so many years ago.

Imagine, you are a child and you've been hiking in the woods and suddenly you come to a clearing that is free of all brush and trees. It is truly a clearing atop a small hill and you can see your surroundings for miles. You can see the blue heavens above interspersed with the occasional puff of a white cloud. Your view includes a babbling brook at one end of the clearing that leads down to your village below. The trees are alive with brilliant colors you've never seen in nature before and then you look down at your feet and notice the clearing is carpeted in bright yellow, almost sunny marigolds. You're standing there taking in this painted canvas with all its wonder when you notice something different towards the middle of the clearing. You walk towards it, anticipating what it might be and when you get closer, you suddenly stop and hold your breath for a fleeting second. You might even gasp. But then you slowly exhale and gaze in wonderment at the prettiest marigold of all. It is royal purple in color. You know this is something special and out of fear of harming it, you only touch it with your eyes as it becomes a part of your soul forever. That is a special breath moment!

If you enjoyed reading this short story I wrote for a challenge and want to read more of my stories, please visit my author's page here on Vocal. I'm an old disabled dude who doesn't get out much, so I spend a lot of my time here trying to entertain folks. If I've entertained you, please consider leaving me a like or even a tip for a cup of coffee later. I like to write late at night and coffee helps sometimes. Thank you so much for your time. I realize you have choices.