Week 25: Janelle Hougland - One Person's Nowhere

Full Prompt: “One person’s nowhere is another person’s everywhere”

Story:

She stood in front of the only ornate thing in her modest apartment, morning coffee percolating in the kitchenette. The largest wall in the studio apartment was adorned with all manner of objects. Small interesting branches rested on nails. Feathers were carefully organized in jars. Rocks and bones lay on shelves along with arrow heads. Myriad beautiful, seemingly meager, gifts from the natural world comprised her ever-evolving collection. Into a hand stitched bag she put an acorn, a red feather, a bear’s claw, and one item she’d saved for a special day- she felt that day was today. It was a handmade arrow, broken in half. She had discovered it on a ten day solo trek into the mountains some years back. She plucked a few flowers from her window garden and put them into a glass jar of water. She slung the bag around her shoulder and poured herself a cup of coffee which she placed on the small table by her front door. She grabbed her wide brimmed hat from its rack above the table and placed it upon her head covering her straight brown hair which had only just begun to gray. She double checked the contents of her bag, grabbed the coffee mug and exited for her day’s work. 

It had been just five months since Edith Robertson’s husband died. Strong, handsome, capable, Jeffery and she had been married for thirty-seven years. And now he was gone. Edith opened the front door of their house and for a moment her grief abated. As there had been every Monday morning since his passing, a small cluster of edelweiss flowers in a glass jar sat upon her stoop. She carefully picked them up and brought them inside. She had no idea who had been bringing them, and her attempts to discern their deliverer had failed. She decided that day to figure out what they might represent.

The local librarian, a young man named Trevor, happened to love symbolism and knew exactly where to direct Edith in her research. Just as keen as she to decipher their meaning, he read over her shoulder all about edelweiss. Courage and strength was ultimately regarded as what they symbolized in the floral world. Edith shed a tear in finding someone had been going out of their way to leave her courage every week since her husband’s passing. She asked Trevor if she might have a hug. To which he replied “of course.”

After leaving the jar of flowers on Edith Robertson’s front steps the woman in the hat stopped into a new local art gallery. The show that had just been unveiled was all about birds. The woman in the hat loved birds. She perused the art adorning the walls and wished she’d had money for something, even if only to support the gallery and the organizer of such a beautiful show. The gallerist greeted her and the woman in the hat conveyed just how exemplary she found the collection. She expressed how, if she had the means, she’d buy several things; but also joked she knew that did no good. As the two shooks hands, the woman in the hat had in her palm the acorn. 

She looked at the gallerist with soft eyes and in a genuinely heartfelt manner said, “acorns represent potential. They represent growth and prosperity and I wish these for you so very much.”

The gallerist looked down at the small nut now in her hand. She could not think of a more simple yet moving gift she had received. Certainly not in the gallery. As she raised her head to thank the patron, the woman in the hat was already out the door. 

He slammed his laptop shut in frustration, muttering inaudibly to himself. Jackson Halbrook sat back in his chair at the cafe and rubbed his temples with the first two fingers on each hand. He then hunched forward, rested his elbows on the table, and his head in his hands. He closed his eyes. When Jackson opened them there was a red feather in front of him with a small tented piece of paper next to it. He looked around as he grabbed the piece of paper. In all lower case, hand written letters, there was the word “freedom.” He twirled the feather between his thumb and forefinger, looking around the small cafe. The barista came over to clear his mug.

“All finished here?” She inquired with a smile.

“Yeah… but…” he trailed off as his gaze still drifted around the room, red feather in hand.

“Oh, that was Grace,” the barista said.

“Grace?” 

“Yeah. Well, we call her Grace anyway, I’m not sure if that’s her name. What did YOUR note say?”

Still bewildered, Jackson answered: “freedom.”

“You should look into that,” the barista smiled as she walked back toward the kitchen.

Grace’s last stop of the day was a house within ear shot of her own small dwelling. She supposed most in the neighborhood had their personal distractions and could not hear the raised voices almost every night. As she had thought earlier, today was the day. She removed from her bag an item she’d been holding onto for a long time. The sort of thing you don’t come across very often and when you do you make special note of it. It was something most people might be inclined to keep for themselves, but Grace knew it had a bigger purpose. She wrapped the two pieces of wood together with twine and placed them on the front porch of the couple’s house. While an arrow is a symbol and tool of war, a broken arrow symbolizes peace- an end to argument and quarrel. With it she placed a rolled, handwritten note. She rang the doorbell, put her hands in her pockets, and strode from the house. 

“I sure hope that will help,” she muttered aloud as she looked up into the sky.

It had been twelve years since Grace started to notice and collect items such as these. Twelve years since she let modern trivialities go by the way side. An event so small, remedied by something we take for granted had opened her eyes. She started paying closer attention to the things around her. Trees shown more vividly green. The sky’s multitude of blues moved as an unending movie. Scents and tastes became utterly intoxicating, music rang out more melodically than ever before. Embracing these things gave way to more acutely noting peoples’ everyday vulnerabilities, struggles, and true needs. It had been twelve years since she set to helping them out in the best way she could. Simple acts of encouragement. She knew it was not much, but sometimes, as happened with her, it takes but the smallest push to usher in change. After all, dominoes will stay stacked until the slightest force is exerted against one- then they all have the momentum to move. As she pondered this very idea she looked down and a domino lay on the curb. She smiled, picked it up, and put it in her pocket. 

Grace hung her wide brimmed hat on the rack by her door and removed from her bag the only item which had not found its home today- the bear’s claw. “Well,” she said as she replaced it on one of the shelves of her wall, “I guess you’ll just have to protect me at least one more day.” She removed the domino from her pocket and put in a tin on another shelf with other trinkets of it’s like. She strode the few paces to the corner kitchenette of her apartment and lit the stove to heat some water for tea. She opened the window near her chair and let the sounds of the street fill the room: cars slowly passing by, crickets chirping, a neighbor listening to music just loud enough for her to hear. The evening air was cool as the final licks of sunshine mixed with the gentle breeze. She smiled as she waited for the kettle to boil.