This story is by April Bly and was part of our 2022 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
From an early age the child had shown a special talent for jig saw puzzles and collage – the piecing together of objects to form a pleasing whole.
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And why not?
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Both her parents were artists: her father a world-famous photographer, her mother an artisan of whimsical stained glass before she became an award-winning author of children’s tales of wonder.
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Ardyss was well looked after by her mother and loving grandmother, but her father was seldom at home. It must be said he wrote to them often, enclosing his striking photographs of faraway places, and ending every letter with “My love enfolds you, all three”.
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Until the tragic accident.
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~*~ ~*~ ~*~
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The woman stood at the window waiting for the first flash of light.
Her attire was modest: a white dress and sandals, both perfectly comfortable though new.
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How long she’d been here she wasn’t really sure; but it was a good place: quiet, beauty-filled, restful. Her tasteful surroundings were simple and pastoral, as she preferred.
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Here there was no night; just a subtle change in the sky. No moon or stars except in the planetarium, a most popular gathering place. Would they build another, she wondered, if the longing for the stars persisted?
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The architects knew and built what pleased.
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Here, as below—but with the speed of an eye blink—thoughts became things.
She could have constructed her house and its rooms simply by willing them into existence. She’d accomplished that with the veranda, a replica complete with her mother’s rocking chair, the porch glider roomy enough to sleep upon in the open air, and her cherished terracotta urns of scarlet geranium.
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Yes, she could do it all herself or she could give someone else the pleasure of designing something that would please her.
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This was the lesson she’d brought with her from below: there was double joy in fashioning something with the tastes and needs of a particular person in mind. It was what all of them here desired most: someone else’s smile given in gratitude for one’s own thoughtful creation.
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Here, in the midst of plenty and easy wish fulfillment, there was nothing more precious than that spontaneous, appreciative smile.
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The flash lit the window frame. She took another cooling sip from the flask.
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It was time.
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The walkway gleamed smooth, clean, and bordered on one side with a living fence of climbing vines. She paused to touch a few buds and watch them spring instantly into bloom, each a different color combination, always a surprise. On a typical morning, she wouldn’t tire of the game until she grew hungry; but this morning she had an appointment to keep.
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It was a short walk to the Dreamer’s Garden, a break in the cloud floor that allowed her to see below.
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The air shimmered and then cleared.
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Her mother stood behind Ardyss as she climbed the ladder of the sliding board. When she was seated at the top, the child hesitated. Grandmother moved to the foot of the slide, holding out her hands in readiness, and Ardyss, laughing now, scooted forward for the plunge into those waiting arms.
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Their adventure continued until the little girl tired of the slide and bolted toward the swingset, Grandmother in close pursuit.
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Much later, the two were contentedly at play in the sandbox.
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She looked away, lost in the enormity of her loss.
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Why had she come?
What had she expected?
What could she . . . do. . .now?
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“I can give you what was taken from me — a future life of loving service, a child you would adore, a mother who loves you beyond measure, a man…”
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She reconsidered.
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I can give to you more and better than what was mine — a man who loves you to distraction, who shares and fuels your dreams and stays by your side to achieve them.
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Thoughts become things; wishes become ways to be.
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Your future, my daughter, lies in the work of your hands.
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It will take time.
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I will be near you always. You will feel my presence at daybreak, hear my lullabye at dusk. I will fill your thoughts with my thoughts, guiding you, reminding you. The life, the child, the mother, the man…you shall have them all.
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This is no paper promise I make to you: My love enfolds you here and below.
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On the way down, the woman in white flexed her wrists; her hands gestured in sympathy with her thoughts, opening and closing. No pain, no writer’s cramp, and now no remaining ache in what was once her grieving heart.
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I am as alive as I am ever going to be, in forward motion, with an ever-changing plan.
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Below, the path to the sandbox was strewn with pebbles of many colors.
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She chose a dozen small ones to begin.
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~*~ ~*~ ~*~
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The mellifluous chords subsided to a momentary hush in the hall. The images on the screen faded. Then the house lights came on over the stage area and the audience shot to its feet in a standing, shouting ovation. Ardyss, slight of stature, silver-haired and radiant, rose from her seat. She curtseyed deeply, accepting a bouquet of roses so large and ornate it nestled at her throat as she held it in her arms. Her husband cheered and her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren applauded until their hands were pink and tingling.
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“I’ve driven by it many times, but I never realized…”
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“Yes, such a simple but powerful idea.”
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The Children’s Stone Mural as it was called was the brainchild of one petite young woman. Ardyss was fourteen when she began and barely out of childhood herself. A few months later, she was joined in her project by an elderly stone mason and his handsome, lively, rock-climbing nephew. Together the three mixed mortar and laid the foundation along the natural shelf of rock that hugged the base of the sheer rock wall.
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Close up, the finished portions of the mural resembled a quilted surface that faded to a colorful, pleasing blur from the roadside. Each small panel of the mural was the design of a single child who had been confined for a time to the busy local hospital. Over the years, the hospital had become a renowned medical center relentlessly focused on children’s healing.
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Smooth stones from the nearby riverbed were free, inexhaustible in supply, and thus the most popular medium of expression; but discarded crutches and small, outgrown body braces sparkled with the morning dew. Each panel, neatly bordered with small stones, signified a journey from crippling illness to glowing good health and acceptance. In the altogether, the mural symbolized miraculous victory over despair and helplessness, and the fear of being different.
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For days after the award ceremony, people could be seen stopping their vehicles along the broad shoulder of the roadway. Alone and in pairs they labored up the embankment to the point where it became too steep to climb, to have a closer look.
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Each one came away with a smile.
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