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{Straight From the Heart} *The Cry of the Crow* 3/9/01
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The Cry of the Crow
By Christine McClimans
The old black cat was curled up sleeping contentedly in the rocking chair.
Further off in the distance a flock of crows could be heard cawing loudly in
the pine trees.
The room was dark except for the trace of daybreak that was filtering
through the small opening at the bottom of the tightly drawn window shade.
Nestled snugly under the security of a yellow chenille throw Chrissy began
to stir.
"What's with the crows? Daddy, do they fly at night? Daddy. Daddy."
Sitting up in the chair she looked toward the bed for an answer. Rubbing her
eyes she focused on the bed but it was empty. The red plaid bedspread was
smooth and the oversized pillows were propped up against the headboard. The
sun was streaming in the small slit and she could see the night had vanished
and so had her daddy. Only the bottle of pills and a small glass of water
remained on the night stand. His bathrobe lay crumpled in the corner.
"Go away sunshine," she squinted. "I'm not ready for today!"
"What happened to the stillness of the night?" she wondered. "The darkness
had been even worse."
She remembered it all to suddenly, too painfully as she noticed the tear
stained pillow she had been clutching. Sinking back into the chair she once
again wrapped the blanket securely around her. This old chair had always
felt safe when she had been wrapped up in a blanket on her daddy's lap.
"Where are you now Daddy?" she questioned.
Unwelcome thoughts filled her mind. Reluctantly she slipped out of the
old chair and onto the bare hardwood floor. Her footsteps echoed as she
walked toward the bathroom blinking desperately to hold back the flood of
tears that threatened. After wiping the escaping tears from her eyes she
climbed into the shower. The cold porcelain sent a shiver from the soles of
her feet all the way up her spine.
Bending over she turned the water indicator to HOT. She closed her eyes and
tilted her head back. Steam surrounded her as she felt the warmth and relief
spread over her body. A way to perhaps escape the uneasy feelings, if only
temporarily.
"What do I wear today? Does it really matter? Yes, it does." She stated
answering her own question.
She chose a simple black dress with a solitary red rose on the lapel.
"Yes, this is perfect. Daddy loves this dress."
After slipping on her finest black nylons and smoothing the last wrinkle
from her silky dress she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. On any
other day she would have smiled at the woman looking back. Today she saw
only a trace of the person she had become.
The air was crisp, even for an October morning. The last of the honeybees
were gathering in the goldenrod and horseweed and the leaves were falling
like snowflakes on a December day. The crows were still making a ruckus in
the treetops. There must have been a hundred of them!
She slid behind the wheel of her bright red Honda Prelude. Normally driving
it gave her pleasure, but not today. She had too much on her mind. It was
less than a ten-mile drive to town, unless she took the long way, which she
did. She waved half-heartily at the farmers harvesting the last of the
crops, wishing she could be out in the fields too. Logging trucks filled the
highways and the Dairy Bar had an extremely long line.
It was barely noon when she entered the small room. Soon she would be caught
up in all the sounds and smells and she would barely have a chance to think.
She tried to collect her thoughts and get her emotions in check.
With so many people all around, how would she find the perfect way to say
"good-bye" to him? She knew she would have find a way to get a few moments
alone with him. she just had to! For so long he had been the only man in her
life. She always thought that he was the only man that would truly
understand her and love her anyway.
"Chrissy, what are you doing here so soon?"
The sound of another voice made her jump.
"Oh, Reverend Miller, I was hoping to have some time alone with Daddy before
everyone arrived. Please, is that possible?"
"Honey, your father isn't here yet. There was a slight delay. He won't be
for another half-hour. You can wait in my office if you like."
"That's very kind of you, but I think I will take a walk in the garden
until he arrives."
"That's a wonderful idea, Chrissy. God has blessed us with just enough cold
nights and warm days to make the trees brilliant this year. The skies are as
bright and clear as any I've ever seen. It must be a message for you. I'll
leave you to your thoughts. If you need me I'll be inside. I'll let you know
when your father is here."
"Thank-you" she said flatly.
As much as she hated admitting it, the day was glorious. It reminded her of
the many times she had walked along side her father. They would spend the
afternoons walking in the meadows, telling tall tales, and stopping
sometimes to search for monsters or angels in the shapes of the clouds.
A smile crossed her face and for a moment her heart felt light.
From inside the chapel she could hear voices as friends and family started
filling the pews. She could hear the faint music that filtered through the
air.
She should go in soon. Everyone would wonder where she was and perhaps even
begin to worry. But her daddy wasn't there yet. Reverend Miller told her he
would come for her. She decided to take one more deep breath and then head
inside. She would talk with the others; it was the proper thing to do.
Breathing deeply she recognized a familiar fragrance.
"Could that be honeysuckle that seemed to linger on the autumn breeze?
Impossible, honeysuckle hasn't been in bloom since springtime! I must have
imagined it," she thought as she walked slowly toward the church.
The Reverend met her at the door, reached for her arm, and she knew without
a word her father had arrived. He was there waiting for her.
Once inside she stopped to survey the room. It was brimming with friends,
family, and loved ones. The church bells rang softly and she was overcome
with emotion. Her legs shook and her mouth trembled as she mouthed the
words, "Good-bye Daddy, I love you."
Saying, "Good-bye" that October day was one of the hardest things I have
ever had to do. I learned a lot about life and love from my daddy. He is the
man against whom I would compare all others for many years to follow.
I will always remember daddy when I hear the cry of the crow.
Cry of the Crow
"Hear the cries of the sweet crow
As she prepares for flight.
Soon she'll take wing
In the stillness of the night."
Christine McClimans
corky5@urec.net
Email Christine and let her know what you thought of her story!
Copyright 2001 Christine McClimans, All rights Reserved
*****
I am a freelance writer/photographer residing in a small country setting
in rural NW Ohio. I enjoy writing travel articles, fiction and nonfiction,
children's stories, poetry and inspirational material.
My credits include Hope Magazine, Over the Back Fence, Tulsa Woman
Magazine, Drag Racing Review, The Small Street Journal, Motivating Moments,
various newspapers, travel brochures, and online e-zines.
I am published in several anthologies and I have several nonfiction
stories scheduled for publication Spring 2001. I am currently active writing
my first novel.
Visit Christine's website called DreamEscapes at:
http://fictionwriter.tripod.com/McClimans.html
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_
/_/\/\ MICHAEL T. POWERS
\_\ / THUNDER27@aol.com
/_/ \ "For I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but
\_\/\ \ Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body I live for the Son
\_\/ of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me." Galatians 2:20
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