Hope Wears Yellow

There are those we don’t yet know but wish to know someday. They breathe magic and fairy dust without even trying. The air becomes electric for reasons you can’t entirely identify if they happen to walk into a room when you weren’t expecting them. They sparkle. They shine. They give you the impression that if you could touch them and draw them close, your humdrum everyday life would go from black-and-white to full, living color in an instant.

There are those we know very well, so well that their presence at the center of our days is commonplace. Even if you love them well, you are used to them. You rest easy in the understanding that they have feet of clay — clay that contains a network of cracks if you look too closely at its surface. Their feet look just like your feet. Some days this is a comfort to you, but other days it’s just another ordinary fact of life.

Then there are those we will never meet or even see in the flesh. Some have left this world before we even existed and enjoyed the opportunity to occupy the same space at the same time. Others never existed at all. They are only ideas and impressions that we wished we could reach out and touch. And we will chase the essence of them all our lives precisely because we cannot know them.

........

Ari furrowed his brow as he took a second look at the photos he’d shot the other day at his brother’s wedding. He’d been short on cash and business had been slow lately, so he couldn’t quite swing the impressive wedding gift he had wanted to give. He could, however, provide an incredible shoot of the ceremony and the events of the day for free — one perk of being a professional photographer with all the right equipment always at the ready.

Roger and Anne had graciously accepted, of course. His brother and new sister-in-law had always been so supportive of his work and were genuinely pleased with the offer.

Now it was time to go over the shots and, later, the video footage so he could present the happy couple with a stunning final package upon their return from their honeymoon in Fiji. Ari could have sworn he’d known everyone present at the wedding, as he couldn’t recall seeing even one unfamiliar face. Yet he was seeing one just the same, and what a face it was.

The face in question belonged to a young woman Ari had never seen before in his life. She was wearing a butter-yellow dress that caught the sunlight beautifully in many of the shots — the reason he’d zeroed in on her in the first place. She had bright, blonde hair — so platinum in tone it was almost white — piled into an upsweep that was attractive without looking overdone. Her feet were bare and her skin had the healthy, bronzed look that hinted at lots of time spent outdoors. In some of the pictures, he could see she had yellow daisies in her hair.

In one shot, she was standing right behind Anne and Roger, looking on with a kind smile as the newly married couple enjoyed their first dance. In another of the reception, she was seated near his own parents, a dainty slice of white wedding cake on the plate in front of her and a slender flute of champagne in her hand. And now, after going over most of the shots multiple times, Ari could spot the stranger in many of them — in the background looking on, if not very close to one of the key subjects of the photograph in question.

He would have remembered someone who looked like this, especially in the instances where she was fairly close to the camera. He’d have to ask Roger and Anne who she was when they got back, just to satisfy his curiosity. In the meantime, he would just have to continue to wonder.

........

Terry blinked and stared hard at the lottery ticket he held in his hand. He’d been looking at it for what felt like an eternity now, going over it carefully to make sure he wasn’t mistakenly seeing something that wasn’t there. And now he finally felt like he could be sure of it. He could feel a huge bubble of excitement building in his chest as he continued to stare. It had finally happened after decades of buying a lottery ticket every week, hoping for a miracle. He’d won.

He tried hard not to yell or jump out of his seat — the same seat he always sat in at his favorite diner when it was time to break for lunch. But he could feel every nerve in his body vibrating with excitement as he tried to pretend this was any other day and not the first day of the rest of his life.

Everything seemed louder today. Terry’s usual cheeseburger tasted like the most incredible thing in the world. The coffee at this diner was usually mediocre at best, yet this particular cup tasted like the finest Italian espresso at the moment. He didn’t even care that his fries were on the cold side, not to mention a little bit soggy.

Everything had changed, and Terry’s entire life was going to be different from this moment forward. He could hardly wait to get home and tell his wife. These winnings were substantial enough that neither of them would ever have to work again. He could quit his construction job, and she could kiss the cash register at the corner drug store goodbye for good. And the kids could go to college. They’d be able to do something meaningful with their lives.

Just the thought of it all made Terry want to sing. He savored every bite of his cheeseburger as he continued to stare at the lottery ticket, turning it over and over in his hands. On the front, behind the fortuitous sequence of numbers that had handed Terry a new future, was a picture of a castle surrounded by a huge moat.

In the window of one of the castle’s towers was a beautiful woman with white-blonde hair and golden skin. She wore a dress the color of the sun, and it caught the light as she gazed out of the window, straight into the eyes of the viewer. Of course, it was just a cheesy piece of cheap artwork, just like a million that you see every single day. But just then, Terry thought the woman in yellow was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Terry was so happy and filled with hope for his future, everything looked impossibly beautiful to him today. He smiled wistfully to himself as he downed the last bite of his burger, finished his coffee, tossed a handful of bills on the table, and hurried off to go buy some champagne and a bouquet of flowers for his wife. If ever there was a night to celebrate, it was this one.

........

Ephraim was on his death bed, but he couldn’t really say that it bothered him much. At 105 years old, he knew he’d had a good run. He’d accomplished much and loved even more. He was surrounded by loved ones who would miss him terribly once he was gone. He would never say so out loud to his children or grandchildren, but he was eagerly looking forward to walking through the gates of heaven and shaking hands with his Lord and savior. He’d get to see his wife again.

More and more often these days, he’d be very aware that his time was swiftly approaching. The veil between his world and the next had grown mighty thin. Sometimes he’d look out the window and, instead of seeing the familiar landscape of his well-tended back yard, he’d see tall, pearly spires surrounded by clouds. Instead of waking up to the sound of chickadees as he’d always done, he was waking more often to the sound of harps and otherworldly singing.

His eyesight was starting to go now that he was close to the end, so he couldn’t read with much comfort anymore. Instead, his favorite thing to look at had become a drawing his young great-grandson had drawn for him in school. Little Eric had drawn his entire family — himself, his parents, his brothers and sisters, and Ephraim. He’d also drawn their house and all of their pets.

And to one side of the scene, Eric had also drawn a smiling blonde woman in a yellow dress. He called her Hope and swore up and down that she’d been his best friend since he was born, always looking after him, especially when his mother and father couldn’t be around. Ephraim chuckled at the memories of Eric’s animated speech as he talked about Hope and made up so many imaginative stories about her. He hoped Eric would never entirely lose his wild sense of imagination.

Children would be children, and of course, they’d have their imaginary friends. And besides, Ephraim was grateful for Eric’s stories. Lately, Hope had been appearing here and there in his dreams and strange morning visions, and she’d been such a comfort to him in these final days. What a beautiful world he lived in. What a beautiful world he had yet to call home.