The Visit

I made my way through the door. A room of expectant faces stared in my direction in answer to my presence. “Annabelle!” The lilt of my voice rang clear across the room. My eyes scanned the group of faces before me for any signs of movement or recognition. Nothing. “Annabelle!” I called again as I shifted my weight, impatiently resting my back against the wall. An elderly lady in a wheelchair made her way forward, ever so slowly, as I held the door open for her. “Are you Annabelle?” I asked. “She is.” Her aid replied rather matter of fact. “Right this way,” I directed, pointing towards the the scale.

“What’s your name dear?” Annabelle inquired. She looked up at me from her wheelchair. Her eyes were somewhat vacant but a part of her was genuinely curious. “Abigail.” I responded. “Beautiful name...” she said and smiled as if I was the proud bearer of the legacy of all the Abigails before me. “Thanks. Can I get your date of birth?” I asked. She blinked as if taken by surprise. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she stared at her hands. Eventually, she looked up at her aid in resignation. “It’s December 17, 1935,” her aid replied. “Is that something I should know?” Annabelle asked with genuine concern. I looked at the aid. “She has dementia,” her aid volunteered. “Oh.” I replied. My heart sank. I felt pity for Annabelle. I couldn’t imagine what losing yourself in such a way would be like. We made our way to the room where I asked her the standard questions about medication. “Do you still take 40mg of metoprol?” I knew she didn’t know the answer but I wanted her to feel as if she still had some say in the proceedings. I felt that it was only right. Her aid answered for her but with every answer she would turn to the aid and ask “Is that something I should know?” so innocently like a child. She was so trusting of this person who could be anyone, but she didn’t have a choice. I turned my back to hide the tears as I finished entering the information in her chart. I bid them a hasty goodbye and went to lunch.

I sat in my car and thought about Annabelle…

I silently grieved for her loss and realized that it was my biggest fear. My sense of self was my most invaluable possession. The precious memories of my family and loved ones were the very fabric of my being. It would be the only thing that truly wouldn’t change with the passage of time. My lunch time was up. I sighed, reluctantly scrambled out the car and began to make my way across the parking lot. The crisp fall air engulfed me as I pulled my jacket closer and stepped through the doors of the medical facility.

I was home.

I smiled as I hung my coat on the sturdy branches of the almond tree. There was no need for coats here. The warm Jamaican sun gently kissed my face as I hopped between the fairy stones, narrowly missing the branches of gorgeous Hibiscus that lined the garden path. Lavender bloomed between the gnarled trunk of the almond tree mingling with pockets of Lilies of the Valley.

I made my way up the stairs and unto the porch. My mouth began to water at the smell of brownstew chicken and dumplings that my mother loved to make. “You came just in time,” she said as she greeted me with outstretched arms. “Mom!” I grabbed her and pulled her into the deepest hug possible. I did not want to let her go. “I’m so happy to see you, I thought you had changed your mind,” she said as she released me to stir the pot. “No mom, I had to wait until I got off work but I made it.” I grinned and sank into the chair by the the kitchen table. “I think your nose already told you that I’m making your favorite,” she said as she moved from the stove to the cupboard. She took down the water pitcher and went to the sink to fill it. “Since you are here do you mind watering the plants for me?” “Really Ma, I just got here and you are putting me to work already?” I groaned and reached for the water jug. “C’mon man,” she said in her classic Jamaican lilt “you know the plants need your special touch.”

The weight of the water jug began to hurt my hands as I stared out into the garden. I had no idea where I was going or why I had a jug in my hand. The water felt cool to the touch as if I had just filled it, but I had no idea why. I stood frozen by frustration and decided to retrace my steps for clues. I looked around the room... The space gave me a vague sense of nostalgia, as if I had been here in a past life...It was someone’s living room but it had been neglected for quite some time.

Vines from the garden had made their way through the foundation of the house and had eaten parts of the walls. The pictures on the mantel piece were covered in dust and spider webs hung unto corners of the bookshelves. I had no desire to leave. In fact, I had a strange sense of belonging, as I went to the kitchen and turned off the faucet.

“Abi!” It was my mom calling at me through the window…

My dad, brother and sister were with her. They had their coats on. Why? Surely, there was no need for coats. Not here. “Go get your coat!” she yelled, “It’s cold out here!” She turned to walk away with the rest of the family. With every step, the grass beneath their feet withered away. There was a trail of ash left behind them as they made their way down the hillside. If I didn’t grab my coat now, I would be left behind!

I rushed to the front yard…

The flowers had dried up and a chilling wind sang through the branches of the almond tree. The leaves had changed to beautiful fall colors and had fallen off, leaving my coat flapping in the wind. I ran down the steps...I did not have much time. “I’m coming!” I yelled. I made my way frantically down towards the almond tree. I grabbed my coat from it’s branches, turned to make my way back into the house and stopped dead in my tracks. In place of where the house once stood, there was nothing. Just an expanse of white light pierced by the voices of my family making their way, traveling in the distance. Except, I could not see them. They had disappeared, swallowed by the expanse of light that stretched as far as I could see in every direction. Nothing, but the voices in my head.

I heard my mom call my name somewhere in the distance...

“Abigail!”

I jumped up with a start. It was the aid I had met earlier. “I think you fell asleep in your car, dear,” she said. I had. “Thanks so much,” I replied as I hurriedly grabbed my phone and my coat. My break was long over. I started to make my way across the parking lot. The crisp fall air engulfed me as I pulled my jacket closer and made my way through the doors of the medical facility. I could hear Annabelle’s voice echoing in the distance...“such a beautiful name.”