Waiting for Autumn (11 page)

I also tried to spend more time on Earth and take care of my body so I could make a balanced choice. It wasn’t easy eating regularly again, but most difficult was neglecting the souls that were waiting for me. I could sense them calling and knew that I could help, but I also knew that I had to decide quickly about bringing Autumn into this world.

At dusk on the day of the next full moon, my contemplation was interrupted by a knock on my front door. When I opened it, I saw a thin, monklike bald man wearing a white robe and a braided red necklace around his neck. At his feet was a black puppy that looked a lot like Robert’s companion.

“Puppy Don?” I asked.

Then I heard Robert’s distinctive voice, although it was much quieter and weaker than normal: “Yes, Scott, it’s us. Can we come in?”

My eyes followed the figure’s flowing white robe back up to his face, and I almost fell backward when I came to his eyes.

“Robert, is that you?”

“Of course it’s me—who do you think it is?”

“Your hair . . .” I stepped aside and gestured for them to come in.

“Yes, I got a haircut.”

“And a shave,” I said, underlining the obvious. “You sure look different without hair.”

When we were inside, we sat down at the table in the small dining room that separated the kitchen from the living room. After turning on the light above the table, I looked down at Puppy Don and noticed that he was wearing a braided red collar that matched Robert’s necklace. I instinctively bent down to take a closer look and recoiled when I recognized the braids from Robert’s recently departed locks.

“You made a necklace from your hair?!” My face scrunched up—I couldn’t hide my disgust.

Robert simply nodded as he proceeded to attach a thin white thread connecting his necklace to Puppy Don’s collar. Characteristically, the dog curled up at my friend’s feet and closed his eyes. In the light I could see Robert’s face much more clearly and noted that he had circles under his sunken eyes and the corners of his mouth curved downward.

“Are you all right?” I asked. “You don’t look so good.”

He replied in a soft, scratchy voice, “It looks like the disease in this body was further along than I thought”—he paused long enough to sigh a deep, heavy sigh—“and I won’t be able to use it for much longer.”

“What do you mean by that? You told me that disease was something that can be controlled at will! You told me that anyone could do it if they had the desire! What are you saying? You can’t leave now!” I was confused and angry. Robert was the only person who knew everything I was going through, and I wasn’t ready to be without him.

“You don’t even know if you’re going to stay on this planet. And if you do, you’re going to have Autumn.”

“But why can’t you just heal your body? You said you could do that.”

“I thought I could, but this one is too far gone. And besides, my work in Ashland is done. You don’t need me anymore.”

“Of course I need you! You can’t leave yet.” I knew it was pointless to beg, but I felt desperate.

“I need to ask a huge favor of you,” Robert said.

“Anything,” I replied, wiping the tears from the sides of my cheeks.

“I need you to take care of Don. I made a promise to him that he would be taken care of while he was in this form.”

“But, I don’t know—”

“And if you decide to move on,” he interrupted, “Martika has already agreed to take care of him. She can’t this week because she’s gone to San Francisco for a seminar. Could you wait on your decision until she gets back?”

“Of course.” It was the least I could do after all he’d done for me.

“Thank you very much. This means a lot to both of us.” He began rummaging through his cloth bag as he continued. “I don’t mean to impose any more than I already have.” I wanted to assure him that it was no imposition, but he waved his hand to silence me. “But out of respect for Don, I need to perform a ceremony to honor the body he has lent me and celebrate the life we have both lived in it.”

I was speechless and almost forgot that I was actually there. Although I felt completely disconnected from my body, I heard my outside voice say, “Of course. Whatever you need.”

Robert smiled gently as he carefully pulled a beautiful sheet of handmade rice paper from his bag and with both hands deliberately placed it in front of him on the dining table. The veined cream-colored paper was bordered with raspberryred flowers and a dancing yellow light that shimmered on the gold-leafed stems. He brought out a long white feather that had been carved into a pointed tip on one end, and a small jar of oldfashioned black ink.

With a long wooden match, he ceremoniously lit each of the three green tapers on my dining table. He then slowly pushed one in front of me and one in front of him and lovingly placed the third on the floor next to Puppy Don. After the candles were lit, he gestured for me to dim the lights, and once I’d done so, he closed his eyes and sat without speaking for several minutes. The only thing to break the profound silence was the gurgling sound coming from his lungs as he struggled with short, shallow breaths.

When he opened his eyes, he picked up the quill and dipped it into the jar. After letting the excess ink drip back inside, he began to inscribe the paper with long, precise strokes. From my vantage point, I couldn’t read what he was writing, but I could see that his eyes were more focused than I’d ever seen them. He continued to write intensely, with a deliberate sense of purpose, pausing briefly to fill his quill with ink before writing more. When he finished, he gently placed the feather back on the table, and instinctively Puppy Don sat up and stared at him, both of his ears at attention.

Robert then kneeled in front of Puppy Don so they could look directly in each other’s eyes and continued: “I am forever indebted to you for your generous gift, and I will now be your servant for the next three lifetimes. I will remain at your side and will give my life to yours for you to do with whatever you please.”

With that, Robert placed the paper in front of Puppy Don and lowered his forehead to the floor at the base of the puppy’s paws. Puppy Don then looked down at the sheet Robert had inscribed and appeared to read it. After a few minutes, he licked the side of Robert’s face and let out a quiet whimper.

Robert slowly sat back up, picked up the paper, and placed it in front of me before returning to his chair.

When I looked down, I was overwhelmed by how beautiful the calligraphy was. Each stroke of his pen had lovingly caressed the paper and left a precise trail of ink that had more in common with Japanese artwork than the English language. After basking in the beauty of the script itself, I began to slowly read the haiku one word at a time, letting each of his final words sink in:

After reading the words a second time, my eyes began to well up and a single teardrop escaped and slid off the bridge of my nose onto the last line of the poem, drowning the letters in an inky pool of black liquid. I looked up at Robert, and tears continued to stream down the sides of my face.

Robert picked up the paper and in a single motion brought one corner to the candle’s flame until it caught fire. Puppy Don and I stared mesmerized at the burning poem, and I waited for Robert to flinch as the flames began to singe the hair on the back of his hand. At the very moment it was about to become uncomfortable to watch, he placed the burning poem into the pale green ceramic dish he’d retrieved from his bag. The flames slowly crawled to the edges of the paper, and within seconds the fire was extinguished, leaving a frail black scroll of charred remains in its wake.

Once again Robert rummaged through his canvas bag and pulled out another ceremonial tool. This time it was a small silver set of thread scissors. He used them to cut the thread where he had tied it to Puppy Don’s collar and again where it was attached to his own red necklace. He gathered the thread in his left hand, and after returning the scissors to his bag, he walked around the table and stood immediately in front of me. I instinctively stood up and pushed the chair under the table so there was nothing between us.

“Scott, you are now the thread that ties Donald and me together,” said Robert, regaining his booming voice of authority. “Whether you stay on this earthly plane or continue on your journey, you are now the connection that keeps us linked. And during the next lifetime, Donald and I would be honored if you would continue to bear this responsibility and be our guide. Your gift of sight will become even more powerful over the coming seasons, and you will be able to recognize both of us in an instant, no matter what form we take. Scott, will you accept this responsibility?”

Although I wasn’t sure what I was going to be doing next week, let alone in the next lifetime, I did feel indebted to Robert and wanted to give back to him in any way I could. I had no idea what that was going to entail, but I felt that if Robert had confidence in me, it was probably something I could do. “I would be honored,” I finally said, and after I did, he clasped my hands in his and gently transferred the thread into my palm.

As I clenched my fingers around the thin white strands, they became warmer and warmer until I could feel them throbbing with both Robert and Puppy Don’s energy. It felt very familiar, and I was humbled to be holding such a sacred relic of their bond. I’d known that the love between others was real, but this was the first time I could actually feel the energy of genuine love with my hands.

When I looked up, Robert was standing in front of his candle with his palms pressed together and his head bowed. “It’s time for me to go,” he said as he bent down to the candle and blew it out. When the flame was extinguished, the light dimmed in the room by more than half. There were still two candles lit, but his had burned much brighter than the others and was already sorely missed.

“Where are you going to be born next?” I began to shake uncontrollably.

“I’m not sure. Probably Cassadaga. There’s a bright-eyed writer there who will be changing millions of hearts.”

I didn’t know where Cassadaga was, but I knew it wasn’t near. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight,” he said, and his smile broke my heart. “Take care, Scott.”

And with that, he shut the door behind him. I watched through the window as he walked down the street and turned the corner, and I was overcome with a wave of sadness.

My tears returned full force as soon as he was gone, and once the remaining candles had burned themselves out, I saw the full moon hovering outside my window. I had planned to commune with its lunar energy that night to help with my decision about Autumn, but I didn’t have it in me anymore. My decision felt pointless in light of what had just happened. So I dramatically drew the window shade to prevent the silvery light from penetrating my room.

When I crawled into bed, the tears fell from my cheeks into the corners of my mouth and left their salty residue on my tongue. In that very moment I hated everything about the physical world with all its arbitrary limitations, and I just wanted to leave. However, I had promised Robert I would take care of Puppy Don at least until Martika returned. But if it hadn’t been for that obligation, I would have definitely made the decision that moment to go into the spirit world and never return.

I hadn’t been to the park in a few weeks, and as we walked on the wood-chip trail, I was in awe of all the brilliant shades of orange and yellow that adorned the branches above. The park was bursting with color, as fall was definitely in full swing. And as soon as we approached the creek, we could see the fallen leaves floating on the shimmering water like lazy canoes.

Robert wasn’t far from my thoughts that morning, and everything seemed to remind me of him. I found myself staring at the base of a large oak tree, and I watched as its yellowed leaves pulled themselves away from the branches that had held them in safety for many months and gracefully floated to the ground to be near their recently departed friends. I reflected on the humble grace with which Robert had departed the night before and felt honored to have witnessed such a profound ceremony.

As I watched the leaves fall to the ground, I instinctively caressed Puppy Don’s ears and felt my fingers brush against the braided collar around his neck. My tears threatened to return as my emotions from the previous night began to bubble up again, but I quickly forced myself to feel grateful that our paths had crossed, no matter how briefly. Robert had made a huge impact on me in a short amount of time, and I knew in my heart that I would meet up with him again in the future.

When we reached the end of the lower duck pond, I saw Robert’s drawstring bag lying on top of a pile of leaves under a small maple tree. He must have abandoned it in the park before he left the previous night. I couldn’t help myself from picking it up, and after a few seconds I instinctively untied the tattered string and peeked inside. There were several cardboard signs lettered in Robert’s distinctive scrawl. I counted seven in total, and pulled each one out and carefully laid it on the lawn in front of me. Each sign was nearly identical to the next and had a single word floating in the center:

“Typical!” I exclaimed aloud after inspecting both sides of each sign, hoping in vain to find another word hidden somewhere. Robert never seemed to answer any of my questions in a straightforward manner, and even after he left, he was as cryptic as ever.

“Hi!” I said.

“Hello, Lunar Boy. You have such a cute puppy,” she said while gently caressing the side of his face. “What’s his name?”

“Don.”

She furrowed her brow. “He doesn’t like that name anymore. He needs a much more distinguished one. How about Onyx? Do you like that, Onyx?”

Onyx jumped into her arms and started licking the side of her face while wagging his tail in agreement.

“I think he likes it,” I laughed. And as I looked down at the eager puppy, I noticed that something looked different. Something was missing.

“His collar is gone.” I tried to remain calm, but my panic began to show as I started searching on the ground for the red braided necklace.

“He doesn’t need a collar,” Madisyn said with a smile. “We all know who he is, don’t we, Onyx?”

Onyx wagged his tail and let out a short, happy bark.

“Are you settling in to Ashland yet?” I asked.

“Yes, I am. I found a house just a few blocks from here, and I love it. It’s filled with light, and it’s great to be able to get to the park so quickly. I’m such a fan of nature, and being with the trees every day fills me with joy.”

Madisyn gracefully found the easiest way to navigate around it, and without ceremony said, “There are no straight lines in nature.”

“Where did you read that?” I asked, wondering if she had known Robert also.

“I didn’t read it anywhere. It was a vision I had as a little girl, and I’ve always held it dear to my heart.”

Out of nowhere a familiar bright blue dragonfly flew down from the sky and landed on Madisyn’s golden locks. It stopped fluttering its wings and steadied itself on tiny fairy legs with her every step.

“You have a fairy on your head,” I smiled.

“Those are my peeps.” She laughed as she extended her index finger and raised it to the top of her head so the dragonfly could climb aboard. It sauntered onto her finger, and she casually brought it between us so we could get a better look. The dragonfly posed for a few seconds, then quickly flew up into the trees.

As Madisyn passed a clearing, the light beamed through the trees onto her beautiful hair, and the blondest strands began to glow. For the first time in years, I saw a glimpse of love on the horizon and realized that I had finally let Cheryl go.

Abruptly, Madisyn stopped in the middle of the path, gazed up to the trees, and said, “I love Autumn.”

I looked at her dumbfounded as truth bumps covered my entire body.

“I wish Autumn was here every day!” she exclaimed with her arms outstretched to the sky.

“Me, too,” I smiled. “Me, too.”