September: A Love Story That Last Pt 1

September, 2000. Branson, Missouri.

Chapter One

         Mary adjusted her oval glasses and peered down towards her wrist. She twisted it and examined the residue from the medical tape that left square outlines which crisscrossed one another. She scratched at them with her thumb nail and sighed. The evening was quiet as the evenings in Branson always were. Branson was located about forty miles south of Springfield. The small town of a little over six thousand people was known as the theater capital of the world. Mary found sitting near the mountain river much more appealing. The porch swing she rocked on was decorated with one of her blanket knitting creations. Floral patterns framed the inner square of grid that alternated black and brown lines. The center of the blanket displayed one tall flower with a few smaller vines stretching away from the main stem that traveled towards and behind the grid. The tall flower wasn’t just any flower. It was her sunflower. The large flower head sprouted countless interconnecting spirals. Each spiral was radiant with a warm red tint reminiscent of the setting sun that had just presented itself to Mary.
         The cool September air rushed through the trees causing the leaves to whisper to each other. Mary closed her eyes as the breeze brushed against her face. Her poofy but short curly hair danced a samba as the wind worked through it. She placed her hand on top of her head to balance herself from the rush of air. Her wrinkled fingers pressed softly into the light gray hair. Her eyes closed behind the gold framed glasses and she felt herself smile, welcoming the unrequested refreshment.
         Summer’s often extended into late September and this year was no different. The sun always made herself known but it was the moon’s late night servings of a chilly breath that made the front porch a paradise spot to sit and just remember. Mary didn’t always have to go back to the beginning to enjoy remembering. Some days simply remembering a trip to the local supermarket was enough to get her through her nightly cup of black coffee. Other nights took her to times from another decade and even beyond.
         Mary reached for her cream colored coffee mug that identified itself with her name across the front and sipped at the coffee. She looked down into the cup as she always did preparing for it to touch her lips. No matter how slow she tipped the mug, it always seemed to rush at the last second and burn at her anxious mouth. “Hell!” she exclaimed. Mary never cursed. Well, Mary never cursed around others. She pushed the cup away from her mouth and set it back on the glass top table that separated the swing and the nearby rocker. She pushed off the porch with both feet and allowed herself to rock back and forth. Her head rested on the blanket and she breathed.
         Calm and quiet were the only guests with her. The only sound was a soft but steady puff that released from the oxygen tank mounted to the small cart. The cannula ran from the opening to the side of the swing and rested firmly around Mary’s face. Although a nuisance in her mind, it had become a way of life. For as long as she could remember she had been pulling the small tank around to help her breathe. It was just a part of her.
         Her crinkled skin defined her. Years of life experiences represented by each crease. Her light green eyes told stories that went on for hours if you had the time to sit and stare into them. She pulled at the sides of the blue sweater that shielded her from the colder parts of the night. Her hands shook a bit as she clipped the five buttons.  It was time to remember.
         This was one of her favorite parts of her day. Swinging on the porch, collecting the cool air and just remembering. Her husband, William, had even named this time. He called it “Remembering When.” Not the most creative title she thought. That was okay to her. What he lacked in creativity he always made up with humor.  He would always say it in a very radio talk show host voice. His radio voice always took her back to when as a young lady. Her and the family would gather around the large rectangle shaped box in the front room of their home and listen to music, talk or comedy. This made her smile as she crossed her ankles that dangled from the swing.
         She sat quietly for a few more moments. Anxiously awaiting her mind to trigger a point in time passed. Sometimes she sat for a few seconds, other times she sat so long that she found out that she had dozed off. “William.” One word entered her mind. One word but a million memories. Her mouth smiled at the warmness that just his name brought to her heart. As her mind searched for a starting point, she reached and felt for her ring finger. The small diamond that sat on the gold band was still there. Signifying their marriage of almost 70 years.
         “It looks like I’m going to be remembering William tonight.” She said out loud. William was a popular choice. Even in the times that she decided to remember other people, places or events. Somehow, before it was over, the memory had traced itself back to William. However, something was different tonight. As she adjusted herself on the swing, she decided tonight she was going to go back to the beginning. She loved to do that every few months. Every time she did, a new moment or memory popped in her head. It didn’t take her long to find a starting point. After all, there was only one starting point.
         With the blink of an eye Mary went from the fragile little old lady on a swing to a vibrantly beautiful young woman of seventeen. It was late July of 1929. The home Mary lived in had been converted to a boarding home as many home during that time were. Her father worked long days and nights as a coal miner.
         As the Great Depression was beginning several men were out of jobs, which left families with little resources. Her father was one of the lucky ones who remained employed. The boarding house served as an in between for struggling families. Mary saw many people come and go as time passed by. Families with as many as 6 children would somehow cram into the front bedroom and stay for months before moving on. None of that was on her mind this evening. 
         She looked in the small bedroom mirror and then adjusted the long pleats in her favorite skirt. Mary had no idea that tonight her life would change. That in one glance, one motion and one word, her world would begin its journey guided by the strings of love’s song. On the other side of her front door, just about a mile down the road, she was about to meet William for the first time.