DAYDREAM
by Karin Butts
Celia jumped to the side, losing her balance, and fell heavily onto the soft mossy ground. Those young people-where are their manners? She thought sadly. In the distance, the last of a dozen bicycles turned the corner on the narrow tree-lined path. She sat up, picked a few stray dirt balls off her coat, and ran her fingers through her graying hair. Nothing hurt her but her pride. A good thing no one was around now to see her, 'get up from the ground' maneuver.
"Whew,” she muttered, this must have been the group of young adults she had passed on her way into the forest, decked out in tight fitting blue and yellow shirts. They had stood by the old Oak in the towns square and chattered excitedly about speed and gears. She'd heard the word ‘race', and wondered what route they were taking, well, now she knew.
Celia had come home for a holiday on one of her infrequent visits, and immediately made plans to take a leisurely walk through the forest that bordered Robin's Lake.
Stepping out of the sun into the shaded sanctuary, she never failed to feel transposed into the wonder of her youth.
Dora came to her side just inside the stand of trees, as clearly as she had the last time Celia had visited, still in the white Sunday church dress she wore, when she was ten.
"Celia, the bridge isn’t far-- if you've told a lie last week, you know what'll happen, and the creek is up from the rains."
Celia walked on smiling to herself. It was a long way to the bridge, beyond the strawberry patch, where she would stop to sample a few ripe berries. The bridge was beyond the meadow where she would sit on a park bench, waiting to see the elves come out to play. Always she hoped to see them dressed in white ballerina dresses with equally white wings. Flushed faces, framed with golden ringlets of hair, holding hands, they would dance onto the bright green meadow.
I wonder if I really saw them long ago, she wondered and then nodded her head, I can still see them in my mind. She held her breath in anticipation as she walked on in awe of the majesty of ancient trees. Drinking deeply of the sweet scent of Oak, and Maple trees and the earthy, moss-covered ground, she walked on at a leisurely pace.
"Dora, have you forgotten the bull we'll have to pass on the other side of the fence?” Celia teased. She knew Dora hadn't worn red since the first time the bull chased her clear across the meadow.
“No.”
“Well--maybe you've lied and will fall into the creek and get swept into the lake to drown. Then you won't have to face the bull at the end of the forest," Celia grinned. Dora gawked at her surprised-guilt ridden, Celia thought, and then!
The whirring bicycles-, her fall-, it was all too much for her to take in. Try as she may to get up, her knees bent slowly, resisting the strain. A flash of color made her look up.
"I saw you fall, let me help you." A pretty young woman reached out her hands to her and pulled her up.
"Thank you, dear, you are kind."
"I'm very sorry, we were coming fast, but Roger did ring his bell, I heard it," she said to defend her leader.
"No, no, I'm sorry, I was daydreaming and assumed the crickets were zinging especially loud today," Celia smiled. "Go on now, you'll not catch up with your friends if you stay and now, dear, it seems you certainly won't win the race."
“I know I won't, they are long gone.” The young woman said dusting Celia off.
“Are you all right?”
“I'm fine, just fine! But, you do look so familiar, your hair and eyes, I had a friend when I was young, who looked like you, her name was Dora.”
“Not Dora Bowers?” The young woman’s mouth fell open.
“Yes, my best friend Dora, are you--?”
“She was my grandmother, and you must be--?”
“Celia Winston. Dora was your grandmother?”
“Yes," the young woman said, "She passed away a year ago. I spent time with her before she died. Coming here today, I thought of her stories of the bridge down the road a ways and looked forward to crossing it. I made sure I hadn't lied all week!” she laughed. Her laugh, the sound of bells was just like Dora's.
Karin has written two completed novels, poems, and a collection of short stories some of which have been published. Contact Karen Butts.
