THE LAST WALTZ

Well, that is odd, I thought to myself. Amid the rubble and debris, the remaining shell-shocked population shambling about in despair, there it was, the only thing visible with any real shape, substance, or meaning. I froze momentarily from rummaging thru the debris of a burnt-out house looking for any morsel of food or something resembling it. I brushed the tangled mop of unwashed hair away from my face with my tattered gloved hand. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. And yet it wasn’t the first time, nor the second. For weeks I had noticed it. Recently the occasions seemed to be happening more frequently For an instant, I was awash in memories of another time and place, a happier time, a simpler place. I was jolted back to my current reality by the insistent growling in my stomach and the noisy approach of others on the same search as I was. The crazed look in their eyes as they scrambled over piles of broken concrete and shattered dreams hurried me along with the few unlabeled cans I managed to find.

I made my way cautiously to where I made camp under what once was an overpass but now only a section remained jutting out creating a cave-like crevice behind some brush and broken bottles. I had only stumbled across it by accident. The graffiti partly visible, not covered by soot is what drew me here and so I stayed relatively safe and strangely comforted by the red outline of what could only be one thing. That is when it began. The Sign would appear and I would find what I most needed at the moment. It came in many shapes and sizes, sometimes nearly indistinguishable, always tugging at the far corners of my mind as familiar but the fog would roll in and the Why would run and hide.

Glancing over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t followed or being watched, I darted quickly into the weeds and my make-shift ‘home’. I had only begun to unload my backpack when the Announcement came, as it would do suddenly and without warning, screeching into the gloom at an earsplitting decibel letting one and all know another dissenter had been captured. A traitor to the Cause was anyone caught stealing or hoarding food or water, speaking out against the harsh regime that forcibly maintained control, and well anything else they decided was justified to make an example of someone. The brief silence was pierced by heartrending screams of agony as the dissenter was summarily dealt with. The unspoken message was quite clear, this could be you, you could be next.

As the echoes of despair and death faded I sat looking out at the Sign and felt oddly comforted. My breath slowed and my muscles relaxed, just a bit but enough to feel stable once more. There was no reason to hope much less feel comforted. One gloomy day blended into the next, always cold, always hungry, always hyper alert and on guard, icy fingers of despair gripping my innermost being. And yet time after time after time I would see the Sign at my lowest moments, pointing me in the right direction, reassuring my heart, and holding my head above raging waters.

I polished off a half-can of beans I had rationed from the day before, took a swallow of water thick with dirt, and stretched out to rest before beginning again. My eyes and limbs heavy from nervous exhaustion settled into the pile of oily rags I used as a makeshift pallet and I drifted away.

Music, lights, laughter, tinkling of wine glasses.

I was waltzing, alone at first and then slowly joined by others. Freshly washed, recently coiffed, dressed to the nines, floating across the dance floor as if on a cloud. I was being held closely. Then I noticed it, the Sign. Not carved or painted or the remainder of such but the actual Sign. I looked up at the one into whose arms I was carried and whose bosom it was nestled. Recognition of the face jolted me awake. I bolted straight up. The vision quickly receded as I grappled with what I saw.

I hadn’t thought of her in a long, long time. I hadn’t allowed myself. It always caused a searing twinge of pain so I shoved her into the deepest darkest furthest corner of my heart and mind and slammed the thickest door I could imagine shut. There, safely locked away, I could keep her from the horrors engulfing me, the sole survivor of those she loved.

But today, today she escaped her dungeon and swooped me up in her arms and held me so close I could feel her heartbeat, as we twirled across the dance floor. The heart-shaped locket, ornately engraved hung from her lovely neck. Within it our picture. Mother and daughter, smiling and radiant, her arms wrapped around me, mine around her. The hearts I saw carved and painted, engraved and remaining impressions of other images were from her. The Sign was from her. She WAS the sign. She was right here, right now. Watching over me, guiding and comforting me as she bubbled with infectious laughter, radiant with joy, happily waltzing her way thru eternity. I knew I was not alone. I was never alone. The reverie filled my mind, my heart swelled with Hope and Love, my ears rang with music, laughter, and tinkling of wine glasses. A brilliant flash of light obliterated the remains of the overpass under which I lay as we waltzed into eternity, together.