Keeper

A connection to the moon has always been present for sweet Isabell. Her porcelain skin gleams under Luna's light most nights. Her fascination with manifestation and other-worldly ideas has brought her peace and comfort as she journeyed through life. Thirty years in, she finally felt at peace among the stars. A Starseed is what she believed she was. Part of an other-dimensional simulation that could control life's direction and gifts. The power she wielded within felt like a two thousand watt lightbulb; impenetrable and admirable. For the first time in her life, she felt in control, confident, and on the path set out for her. The bedside table within her room housed many treasures. She was a believer in energy and kept only the things that exuded positivity next to her as she dreamt. Among her many treasures was a leather-bound book with a family tree embossed on the front. Inside her innermost thoughts littered the pages in messy cursive that only she could understand. The legibility of each entry was dependent upon her mood. As she revisited these thoughts, the lines and curves that formed the words would bring back a memory of each emotion. A physical item that had the capability of producing a feature film within her mind.

Winter rolled in with a fierce storm. A hurricane made of ice crystals couldn't compare to the catastrophic tempest that wreaked havoc within her soul that cold February evening. Though she is docile; she is fierce. The ring of a phone was the commencement of the great war. She walked into a baron hospital. The alarms that rang over the phone were silent as the King of her world lay lifeless upon a bed made of blinding white sheets. Her hand met his and she closed her eyes. Inside she knew he was slipping yet, she tried one last time to bring him to a conscious level with the warmth of her energy. She knew he has already left this dimension leaving his shell alive with only a beating heart. As the chaplain anointed his forehead, a sense of calm filled the room. His muscles which were once tense fell into a relaxed state as his spirit was evoked from his body and introduced to the great beyond. Still, his heart had a synthetic rhythm. The warrior within Isabell took over her body as she found herself giving the order to send him home. Once he was given control of his destiny, Isabell found the room deafeningly silent. Waiting for the inevitable has never been a personality trait of hers. The world is a production and we should bow out with grace. She played a song. Swaying to the music, with tears streaming from her eyes; sweet Isabell stood beside a strong man and watched in his most vulnerable moments. As the song came to a close, his chest stood still and her world turned to cinders.

She walked with shame to her queen. The matriarch managed to let out an audible internal scream through her eyes. Isabell's Grandfather was her Grandmother's keeper in the most beautiful of ways. He would often stare longingly at her simply to admire the beauty she radiated even after over 50 years of togetherness. Not only did she lose her King that day, but she also found herself in financial ruin. He was a small business owner. He was the keeper of the bills and protector of their fortress. Though they didn't have much, somehow, he always made sure to keep his wife's head above water. They were a couple content with sharing a frozen meal while watching old western dramas. These best friends didn't need much to feel fulfilled. Isabell saw the worry on her grandmother's face and for the first time in recent history, she found herself feeling like young Alice falling down a never-ending rabbit hole. She could manifest! She was in control! This happened on her watch and in some way, she must have caused this madness. Isabell walked around her grandfather's sitting room touching every index card feeling the indentations left behind by the ballpoint of his pen. The unique curvature of ones writing has always captivated her attention. She studied every groove in order to be present with the moment in which the words were written. At that moment, she spiraled. She had the ability to disassociate from the pain for a moment until reality smacked her against the wall. She was on a tattered fishing boat withstanding an epic storm with no land in sight. Like an addict fiending over the next hit, she tore through the drawers of the sitting room searching for more of his etchings. The minuet physical reminder of a life that existed happily in the days prior.

Isabell stopped and stared with curiousness at a little black leather-bound notebook on her grandfather's bedside table. Embossed with tree roots that fit so similarly in conjunction with her personal secret keeper she kept beside her bed. She gently opened the clasp and inside found his innermost thoughts. Each page was etched with different curvatures and lines. Some passages messy and jumbled while others were written with such precise sharp intentional lines. She learned to read emotion in her own writing and here she was faced with the feelings her sweet, strong, powerful Grandfather produced on paper. Each story played like a feature film within her mind. The last passage was presented with jagged lines, sharp edges, and beautiful loops. A mixture of emotions.

"My Dearest Betty, our time together has been the most wonderful experience. I am proud you chose me as I would choose you time and time again. I have heard the call for a while now and have rebelled against it for fear of hurting you. My body is tired and I don't know if I can control destiny much longer. If I could, I would stay with you....here, forever. I will do what it takes to stay with you in spirit. Throughout the years I have pondered this moment. 40 years ago I hatched a plan to support you while I'm gone. Beneath the magazine in your side table drawer, you will find our nest egg. Every time I purchased a flower, a necklace, fudge bars, or a coke, I withdrew a $20 bill. I collected them in a box I held on the top shelf of our armor for this very moment. I couldn't bare to leave you empty-handed so please, live life. Enjoy our grandkids. Hug our children often. Tell our story over and over until your voice gives out. You will be the keeper of our legacy and I trust you enough to say goodbye for now. I will see you again.

I love you, Leland."

With tears in Isabell's eyes, her hands tracing every letter, she dropped the book into her lap. A sense of calmness like the one in the room as she watched him anointed with holy oil overcame her. She walked powerfully to her grandmother and presented her with the last love note from her sweet husband. She fell to her stark white couch in disbelief. She longed for a message, a hug, a reminder of her protector. Isabell and Betty made their way to her nightstand. Underneath a 1993 TIME magazine adorned with a picture of the late Princess Diana, lay a packed envelope incapable of closing. Inside, hundreds of twenty-dollar bills stared her in the face with a pale yellow sticky note on top. "Read your magazine" written with strong lines; intention. Inside every page of the magazine lay more twenty dollar bills. It was as if an hourglass could turn and fall for thousands of years before they could manage to complete the task of counting the gift of monetary love. Every bill represented a time his love language of gift-giving was performed. A gentle reminder of the man who loved her so. Her financial crisis was cured by the never-ending love and protection her King provided her decade after decade. Twenty-Thousand Dollars made up of Twenty-Dollar bills.

Isabell was a moon child. A Starseed. She could manifest things and believed the world was a simulation of tests. She walked out into the brisk weather of the desert the night after her world turned to cinders. She looked up at the moon. Luna shined on her and made her porcelain skin glow under her light. Directly next to it was a bright star. Her Grandfather, the brightest ball of energy in the night sky, was beaming with pride as he looked upon his brave granddaughter. The one who withstood the storm and lead his most precious earthly jewel to the security he left to her. All because she found beauty and comfort in the curvature and emotion of pen on paper.