Catch a Shooting Star jd edit 03 12 2012 html by Brianna Lee McKenzie
Authors: Brianna Lee McKenzie
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favorite thing.”
Travis let her place the golden object into his palm and he marveled at the way it still gleamed in the sunlight. The watch that his father had given him as a boy still ticked its merry yet monotonous tune after all these years.
“I kept it winded for you,” she explained in her little girl voice.
“You did such a good job, Hannah,” Travis said in amazement as he flipped the lid and tripped the latch to start the melody that he had not heard since he was fifteen.
“It’s my favorite song,” she said as she tipped her curly head back and forth in time with the music. “I play it every night before I go to sleep. It helps me to remember that you will come back some day and now, you’re here.”
With as much maturity as she knew how to show, she imitated him by closing his fingers around the watch and said, “So I don’t need it anymore.”
Travis’ eyes welled up with her words but he blinked away the tears and smiled warmly as he said, “I am here.”
As he tucked the watch into his shirt pocket, he watched her pick through the remaining items and then she removed a lock of silken black hair, which was tied with a ribbon that matched the first one that she had taken out of the box. As if he should already know, and he certainly did know, she announced, “It’s a lock of Mama’s hair.”
She placed it gingerly in his hand and then reached up to catch a tear that slipped onto his cheek as she pleaded, “Don’t cry Poppy. Remember when she gave it to you when you left to go to work?”
Without waiting for his answer, she continued, “And you kept it with you always so that you would have a part of her with you. And, remember, when she went to Heaven, you brought it back and you laid it in my cradle so that I would always have a part of her?”
Choking back the tears, he nodded and replied, “I remember.”
He could not tell her that at the time that he had made the gesture, he had not wanted to remember or to have a part of Melody with him for fear that her presence in any form would cause him to soften his heart and turn away from his quest for vengeance upon the man who’d killed her. Instead, he stroked the lock of hair with his forefinger and then handed it back to Hannah as he said, “You will always have a part of her.”
“But what about you? Don’t you want a part of her?”
“I have a part of her,” he forced a trembling smile and declared as he hugged her tightly and explained, “I have you.”
Hannah seemed pleased with his answer and patted his leg with her tiny palm, her face full of adoring joy. Then, as if a switch was struck, her face changed to a more perplexed expression as she peered inside the box once more. She removed an embroidered crest and held it delicately upon both of her upturned palms as she told him in a voice that mirrored her curiosity as she said, “This was what Mama was holding when they found her. I don’t know what it is but she must have liked it a lot, so I kept it for her.”
Travis took the crest from her and studied it for long quiet moments before he stood up abruptly and slapped the crest with his other hand, seething, “I got you, now, you bast…”
Realizing that he was in the presence of virgin ears, he apologized as he retook his place beside her, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. It’s just that I know what this is.”
Curiously, she touched his arm and asked, “What is it?”
“It’s a family crest. Some men wear it on their coats,” he explained, yet wishing that he had not begun his clarification when she asked the next question.
“Is it yours?”
“No, it is not,” he said almost too harshly, hoping that she would find another topic, but she insisted upon delving into the matter at hand.
“Is it Mama’s?”
“No.”
“Is it Tom’s or
Travis let her place the golden object into his palm and he marveled at the way it still gleamed in the sunlight. The watch that his father had given him as a boy still ticked its merry yet monotonous tune after all these years.
“I kept it winded for you,” she explained in her little girl voice.
“You did such a good job, Hannah,” Travis said in amazement as he flipped the lid and tripped the latch to start the melody that he had not heard since he was fifteen.
“It’s my favorite song,” she said as she tipped her curly head back and forth in time with the music. “I play it every night before I go to sleep. It helps me to remember that you will come back some day and now, you’re here.”
With as much maturity as she knew how to show, she imitated him by closing his fingers around the watch and said, “So I don’t need it anymore.”
Travis’ eyes welled up with her words but he blinked away the tears and smiled warmly as he said, “I am here.”
As he tucked the watch into his shirt pocket, he watched her pick through the remaining items and then she removed a lock of silken black hair, which was tied with a ribbon that matched the first one that she had taken out of the box. As if he should already know, and he certainly did know, she announced, “It’s a lock of Mama’s hair.”
She placed it gingerly in his hand and then reached up to catch a tear that slipped onto his cheek as she pleaded, “Don’t cry Poppy. Remember when she gave it to you when you left to go to work?”
Without waiting for his answer, she continued, “And you kept it with you always so that you would have a part of her with you. And, remember, when she went to Heaven, you brought it back and you laid it in my cradle so that I would always have a part of her?”
Choking back the tears, he nodded and replied, “I remember.”
He could not tell her that at the time that he had made the gesture, he had not wanted to remember or to have a part of Melody with him for fear that her presence in any form would cause him to soften his heart and turn away from his quest for vengeance upon the man who’d killed her. Instead, he stroked the lock of hair with his forefinger and then handed it back to Hannah as he said, “You will always have a part of her.”
“But what about you? Don’t you want a part of her?”
“I have a part of her,” he forced a trembling smile and declared as he hugged her tightly and explained, “I have you.”
Hannah seemed pleased with his answer and patted his leg with her tiny palm, her face full of adoring joy. Then, as if a switch was struck, her face changed to a more perplexed expression as she peered inside the box once more. She removed an embroidered crest and held it delicately upon both of her upturned palms as she told him in a voice that mirrored her curiosity as she said, “This was what Mama was holding when they found her. I don’t know what it is but she must have liked it a lot, so I kept it for her.”
Travis took the crest from her and studied it for long quiet moments before he stood up abruptly and slapped the crest with his other hand, seething, “I got you, now, you bast…”
Realizing that he was in the presence of virgin ears, he apologized as he retook his place beside her, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. It’s just that I know what this is.”
Curiously, she touched his arm and asked, “What is it?”
“It’s a family crest. Some men wear it on their coats,” he explained, yet wishing that he had not begun his clarification when she asked the next question.
“Is it yours?”
“No, it is not,” he said almost too harshly, hoping that she would find another topic, but she insisted upon delving into the matter at hand.
“Is it Mama’s?”
“No.”
“Is it Tom’s or
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