One Picture, One Memory at a Time

I like it when it snows. Not the heavy wet stuff mind you, I like true snow. The light fluffy kind that only falls on the coldest nights. The world gains a sense of silence and peace; a peace that masks the tragedy that I know fills this world past its brim. Tonight was one of those nights; this was one of those snowfalls.
I stood for a moment trying to take in that silence, feel such peace. But the silent crystals that fell from the heavens had no power over the events taking place just across the street from where I stood. Blue and red lights flashed across the road defiling the pure white flakes with alien colors. A group of police surrounded a drunken and screaming man, yelling orders that fell on deaf ears as the man defiantly swung a baseball bat at the surrounding officers. Near his feet was a small object wrapped in a torn yellow blanket, the man angrily hit the object with his bat while he yelled at the police.
It was from my unnoticed vantage point in the shadows that I found her, little Natalie. One of two unseen in the dark, she sat on the crumbling concrete of the sidewalk watching the events across the street. I knew her well, she was seven years old and one of two children belonging to the belligerent man who continued to fight his losing battle.
With pity I put my hand on her tiny shivering shoulder. Even through her coat I felt the bones in her much too thin form. A child of divorce and an abusive father, she had spent most of the last year taking care of her infant brother and gaining a tragic knowledge and wisdom of the world far beyond her few years. She reached her tiny hand up and placed it on mine, her large and beautiful brown eyes pierced my heart as she whispered a question the man across the street didn’t deserve.
“Will daddy be alright?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered back, “Come, this is no place for a child.”
She looked confused, “But mommy said police are good guys, shouldn’t I go to them?”
“They’ll find you in time.” I whispered
She watched the scene unfold a second more, clutching tight to a tiny brown teddy bear. One of its eyes missing and the silk ribbon around its neck torn. She loved that bear, a gift from a loving mother who fought desperately to pull her children out of their father’s grip.
Tonight he had done that for her.
“Can we go see my brother? Daddy was really mad and I want to make sure he’s ok.”
I nodded silently and held out my hand. She smiled and took it, still clinging tight to the tiny bear as I helped her to her feet.
“Am I in trouble?” she asked as we walked through the silent crystals of ice that filled the air.
“Why would you think that?”
She frowned and looked at the snow covered ground, afraid to look up at me. “Because I lied to daddy and ran away.” She said, “He drank too much juice and got really mad, so I lied and said I took my brother. I’m not supposed to cross the street but I did. Daddy ran after me and yelled a lot, I think I’m in trouble.”
“Not anymore.” I said looking at the officers who were getting closer to her father.
She sighed, “Daddy gets scary when he drinks his juice. His face turns red and sometimes he hurts me and my brother.”
My hand tightened on hers a little. I knew all this already but hearing it out loud only fueled my anger at the injustice of it all.
No child deserved that.
No child deserved her father.
We walked away in silence. As we walked I watched her try to catch snowflakes with her tongue, laughing when they missed. I lightened my grip, her innocent laughter taming my anger.
We walked along the frozen and crumbled sidewalk through the silent snowfall of the night. The sounds of yelling and sirens were fading behind us now, leaving nothing but the soft crunch of our footfalls and the quiet and innocent laughter of the child at my side.
I wanted to get her home to see her brother before the police arrived to take him, she deserved that. She may not see him for a very long time after tonight, but such is the way of this world.
“Hey!” she suddenly said excitedly. I pushed my thoughts to the side and looked down at her.
“Yes?”
“Did you know coats can make you happy? I didn’t know that. Maybe if daddy had more coats he would have been happier, and nicer.”
“What do you mean?” I asked
“Mommy told me so.” She said, “She called before bed and said the coats told her we can live with her. I thought she was sad because she was crying, but she said she was happy. I wish daddy had more coats, but he only has one and it smells funny.”
I didn’t say anything, just held her hand as we walked through the light snow. Most of the houses along the road were dark, a few had lights on. No one looked outside, no one saw us pass, the night belonged to us.
I liked it better that way.
“Do you think that’s why daddy got mad? Cause the coats made mommy happy?” she asked, breaking the silence once more.
“Perhaps.” I whispered
“Daddy drank a lot of juice after mommy called, he yelled a lot too. That’s why I got so scared and ran. He yelled at me and said me and my brother wasn’t going to live with mommy. Then he got his bat. I don’t like his bat. Once he hit me with it and I had to go to the hospital. Mommy cried a lot that night and they put my arm in a hard thing so I couldn’t move it. Daddy told the doctor I fell and mommy cried harder.”
I remained silent but my grip on her hand once again tightened. The injustice of this world often made me wish I could retaliate. I wanted to take revenge, step in and punish. But I could not. It was not who I was.
Bad things happen.
I accepted that.
I had to.
We stepped off the frozen sidewalk and onto her front lawn. The house stood silent and ill-kept, shutters fell off walls that needed paint, windows were held together with tape.
This was a lonely place.
She led me inside the house, running ahead of me across a tiny and dirty living room. From just down the hall I could hear an infant crying, and endless and heartbreaking wail that called to Natalie. A child far too young to feel that kind of pull; that kind or responsibility.
I stepped into the room behind her. A single bed and crib stood side by side, surrounded by a few stuffed animals and not much else. She was on her hands and knees pulling stuffed toys out from under the bed, the sounds of crying becoming louder as she dug the hidden infant out from between the toys.
I watched as she pulled her brother out, small and red faced he kicked and wailed as she struggled with his weight.
“Shhh…” she whispered.
Her brother became quiet in her arms. She bent over and kissed his forehead; he looked up at her in the dark and cooed. The injustice of it all threatened to take over me again. She was far too young for this, she didn’t deserve it.
Didn’t deserve her fate.
“I want to stay with him.” She whispered.
“You can’t.”
“But why?” she asked, her lips trembling.
“You know why.” I whispered
As we spoke the police had discovered the blanket held only a doll, not the baby they feared was inside. They were on their way here, we had little time.
Gently she placed her brother in his crib. The brother she had cared for much too young. The brother she had ran for and loved.
The brother she had given her life for.
“I love you.” She whispered giving him one final kiss before placing her bear in his arms. He snuggled it and fell asleep.
I could hear the sirens coming. I held out a hand made of only bone, I gripped my scythe tightly.
“It is time.” I whispered
With tears in her eyes and a trebling lip she took my hand. Her brother was safe, she had said goodbye.
She was ready to go.
I pulled her close and wrapped my cloak around her shoulders, and then together we walked into the light.
They say the reaper never cries, but that night I did. My tears for her falling as silently as the snow.

One Picture, One Memory at a Time

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