The boy watched as the soldiers ran through the streets dusted with bullet casings. The gunfire often kept him up at night fearing for the lives of his friends and family. He was not like the other boys. He did not want to join the fight against the foreigners. He wanted to dream. He wanted fly. He wanted to see the world and he wanted to be remembered forever for doing something amazing. He knew he was never going to get out of his country, or even his house for that matter. But dreaming kept him from thinking about the war in front of him. His father had been killed almost a year ago by stray fire from a nearby firefight. He was protecting his children from harm when in fact it was he who needed saving.
The boy thought about it now and realized there were no tears rolling down his cheek. He never cried anymore, as if all emotion had been drained from his soul. It just happened without his knowledge now. He feared he would never feel again. Never love again, never smile again, never laugh again, never cry again.
As he rose from his prayer an explosion shook his house and he fell to his knees. He heard his mother scream and immediately ran to the kitchen below him to face whatever danger lay waiting. As he came down the stairs he heard the shot. It was not like the millions of shots he had heard before, this one was special. This one was the one that killed his mother. The soldier stood over her body with an eerie smile on his face, clearly proud of the life he had just stolen. The boy stood in a fiery mix of shock and rage staring at the soldier, unable to look at his mother. He ran at the devil before him and swung violently in a crazed attempt to avenge his mothers death. He was knocked to the ground and immediately everything went dark.
The sound of crying was all around him. The gentle reassurance of mothers to their children that everything would be alright could be heard somewhere in the room. As he opened his eyes the boy saw before him maybe 30 people, most of whom he knew. All of them with their children rocking them in their arms whispering gentle assurances that everything will be alright and that they will be enjoying their favorite dinner in just a few hours. That this was just a big misunderstanding. They all knew it was a lie, there was no comfort in the words themselves, it was the thought that maybe it could happen that put the minds at ease. And just like that all of their dreams were shattered as a loud crack from an assault rifle echoed through the room. The man attached to the gun was yelling in a language none of them understood. And after what felt like an hour of his yelling more men stormed into the room and dragged each of the hostages outside and threw them to the ground before what seemed like millions of eyes begging for another’s blood to be spilt so that theirs may be kept warm for one more night.
In the midst of all the commotion the boy didn’t think to look for his sister, she must be horrified. She must be lost and afraid and alone. He scanned the area for her and saw no sign of her. He began to worry and hoped she had done as she had been told so many times before and hidden. Just as he had convinced himself she was safe his world was shattered. He saw the man with the rifle dragging her out in front of everyone yelling once again. He lowered the rifle to her head and resumed screaming at the people before him. He did not care that they could not understand him, he knew the girl in danger would provoke a response. He never would have guessed the response that was to come.
The boy was swallowed by rage and acted solely on instinct. He ran directly at the man and pushed him to the grand standing firm between the man and his sister. He screamed at the man cursing him in ways he wasn’t aware he knew existed. He was swearing the man to an eternity in hell without forgiveness. And just as he finished he realized something. He was crying. There were tears pacing down his face and he looked around and saw the eyes of his countrymen looking upon him.
Looking upon this 13 year old boy who had more strength than every man in the village. The boy realized something else at that moment. He was making a difference, he would be remembered forever. He had saved his people. Even if they all died there that day, he had shown these intruders that they could no longer push them without consequence. And then it happened. He heard chant slowly rise from the back of the crowd and quickly it was booming louder than any gun could ever hope to be. He heard the words, and he knew immediately. He had saved his people. Then the gun went off. The boy fell to his knees, with a smile on his face. With his last breath he repeated the words to his countrymen. “Through hope, we are invincible”.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Love is Found in a Smile
“Hello, Mr. Dearborn, my name is David Everly. We spoke on the telephone, I’m here for what we spoke about. You were going to tell me about how you and your wife fell in live for the valentines day piece.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Everly, please come in, would you like to get started immediately?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to get to work on this immediately.”
“Of course, now what is it I should tell you?”
“Well sir, I’m looking for a story that will really compel our readers. Something romantic and wonderful, but real. We’re trying to capture true love, instead of just a story.”
“Well then I believe you have come to the right place. I’m one of the few people left who knows what it was, and still is, like to be in love to the point where your own life has no meaning if that one person isn’t around. I have the perfect story for you.”
It’s funny what you remember about people. The smells, facial expressions and for me, I always seem to recall the way they smile the first time we meet. When you develop these kind of habits you look for the ones that stand out, the ones you don’t ever want to forget, the ones you see right before you fall asleep at night. That was her. Everything about her, but especially that first smile. It came so easily, like she had been holding it in all day to avoid seeming crazy. That smile was always there. Even when she cried she had that damn smile. It’s little things like that I miss the most. But you should probably hear the whole story so it makes more sense. By the time I’m done, I guarantee, you’ll miss her too.
She walked into the café and everything and everyone stopped all at once. It was like a scene from a movie. (I found out later that it was in fact just me falling madly in love, but I think this gives the story a special flavor too it.) As soon as she sat down there were not a pair of eyes in the room that weren’t fixated on her (minus maybe one from the crazy homeless guy outside with the lazy eye, but the good one was on her). Within a span of three minutes she had walked into a diner, sat down, and obtained the kind of following Angelina Jolie dreamt about.
Everything had seemed so slow and absorbing I hadn’t even noticed that she had sat right next to me at an obviously barren counter. I began to suspect that either something very good or something very embarrassing was about to ensue and it was a crap shoot over which one it would be once I made my move. The only thing I really remember from this encounter and several after it were small things about her, like that smile. The one I got as soon as I said something to her. The truth is I don’t quite remember what it was that I said to her, I wish I could be for reason’s I can’t explain it has left my memory. But it was good and, the best part was, it worked.
For the next five or six weeks we would call each other on the telephone and make dates to walk through the city together. I would make her laugh which would bring out that smile. That was all I ever needed to feel like I was in heaven. I grew crazier about her by the day, and just when it seemed that I would have an aneurysm and die from pressure I asked her to be my one and only. In case you were wondering, she said yes.
It was in the beginning of this relationship that our love was really forged. I had been working as a staff writer for rolling stone when it first started up. It had become an instant hit overnight and I was lucky enough to be along for the ride. My job had awarded me with a lot more money than I was used to, and I was able to afford a bigger more comfortable and inviting apartment. When I got it I made sure it was big enough for two, and she moved in with me as we rolled into our sixth month of dating. Every day I saw her smile was one more day that I could live, she had become as important to me as the oxygen I breathed. It made my heart swell with warmth when she told me this same thing our first night in the new apartment. I had officially become happy for the first time in my life. All because of her.
After being in the new place for about 3 months she came home with the great news that she had gotten the job she had been trying for, for years. She had been signed on as the new director of creativity at a local, and rather prominent, theater. She had always loved the arts and had even graduated from college with an art history degree. This had brought her into a new world of happiness, as well as money. We decided to start saving for something we might want. Which, one year later, was a trip to Bermuda. Which entailed tanning on the beach, eating fresh seafood at romantic restaurants, and a proposal which became and engagement. When we got back she had a unique glow about her which never seemed to fade even in the later years. The wedding was seven months later. Four months after that we moved into a house outside of the city.
I remember one of the nights of the first few weeks we had been in the new house. I was laying in bed next to her. She was looking at me with her smile beaming her energy into the room. A long time ago before I had even thought about girls, my father told me a story about when he met my mother. He said one day after they had been dating for a while he looked at her, and he said what he saw was the most beautiful sight in the world, and at that moment he knew he was in love. When I asked him what he meant by love he only had one thing to say. “Falling in love is the most important thing you will ever do, and when you do there will be no doubt in your mind that, that is exactly what is going on. The mind doesn’t need to understand when all the heart needs to do is feel.” And this moment was the first moment in my life that I truly understood what he meant when he said that. Nine months later he passed away. Nine months after that night with her our first child was born, a son. I named him Thomas, after my father.
We had three more kids after Tom, who now is a creative writing and romantic literature professor at Leslie College. Two years later we had Vincent who now looks exactly as I did 30 years ago and is now a CEO of a major marketing firm. One year after him we had Alice. She was just as if not more beautiful than her mother. Our only daughter, she married to a very successful doctor and holds a similar position to her mothers as the creative director at the Smithsonian. She looks just like her mother now and has two kids of her own. Two girls; Ellen and Grace. Both are incredibly beautiful girls, just like their mother. And our last was Eric. He now is a famous author with 5 books in circulation and a sixth on the way. Having never been able to write anything myself, after years of trying, I was, and still are to this day, the happiest father in the world.
For my seventy fifth birthday the kids all got the two of us a vacation package to go back to Bermuda to revisit the place where I proposed. I had never in all my years seen a smile so honest and happy as I did that day. I laugh when I think about it. The most beautiful she ever was, in my eyes, was when she was seventy two. Four months later, and two weeks before the trip, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. And it was then, in those fifteen minutes at the doctors office, the dream I had been living for all these years had become a nightmare.
For three years she fought tooth and nail, and for a while it looked as though she was going to pull through. But then, in the last three months of her life she got really bad. She was in chemo all the time, her hair had fallen out and showed no signs of growing back. But through all of it, even when the pain and depression were at their worst, she was always smiling. All she would ever say was she was sorry for ruining the trip. All I could tell her was that Bermuda was simply a place, the vacation was being with her. For three months I barely slept and laid with her at the hospital. And then that day came. The one I’ll never forget.
It’s kind of sad how you remember people. The smells, facial expressions, and for me I always seem to remember what they say before they go. When you develop these kind of habits you look for the ones that stand out, the ones you don’t ever want to forget, the ones you hear right before you fall asleep at night. That was her. I woke up that morning knowing it would be that day. I could see in her eyes that she knew it too. Knowing there was nothing we could do, we did our best to make the most of our last day. We did what anyone would have done, we laid inside holding each other talking about the past. Smiling.
As she was fading out and I could feel she was leaving she said something to me. And I was happy that of all the last statements she could have made, that was it. What she said was; “That first day we met what you said to me was, ‘Excuse me but I noticed you are eating alone, would you mind if I join you? Someone with such a beautiful smile should not have to eat in solitude,’ I memorized those words and I hear them every night before I go to sleep. That was the moment I fell in love with you and decided to spend the rest of my life by your side. I know your upset. I know you’re going to miss me. Just remember that no matter what, my love for you will always be there. As will I, just close your eyes.” As she finished talking her eyes closed and gracefully she passed on. At that moment in time a part of me left along with her. I suppose I’ll get it back when I see her again. Whenever that is.
Four months after this interview Brian Dearborn died of natural causes. He was seventy seven years old. He was cremated and upon his directions his wives ashes, along with his own, were placed in the same container and have been spread under the new construction site of where the diner they first met used to be.
Several weeks after his death I met his son Eric at his newest books premiere signing, he told me the night his father died he, and all his siblings, shared the same dream. The dream was of Brian and his wife in their younger years sitting on a beach in Bermuda sharing a kiss, both with smiles on their faces, both glowing, and both in love.
“Oh yes, Mr. Everly, please come in, would you like to get started immediately?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to get to work on this immediately.”
“Of course, now what is it I should tell you?”
“Well sir, I’m looking for a story that will really compel our readers. Something romantic and wonderful, but real. We’re trying to capture true love, instead of just a story.”
“Well then I believe you have come to the right place. I’m one of the few people left who knows what it was, and still is, like to be in love to the point where your own life has no meaning if that one person isn’t around. I have the perfect story for you.”
It’s funny what you remember about people. The smells, facial expressions and for me, I always seem to recall the way they smile the first time we meet. When you develop these kind of habits you look for the ones that stand out, the ones you don’t ever want to forget, the ones you see right before you fall asleep at night. That was her. Everything about her, but especially that first smile. It came so easily, like she had been holding it in all day to avoid seeming crazy. That smile was always there. Even when she cried she had that damn smile. It’s little things like that I miss the most. But you should probably hear the whole story so it makes more sense. By the time I’m done, I guarantee, you’ll miss her too.
She walked into the café and everything and everyone stopped all at once. It was like a scene from a movie. (I found out later that it was in fact just me falling madly in love, but I think this gives the story a special flavor too it.) As soon as she sat down there were not a pair of eyes in the room that weren’t fixated on her (minus maybe one from the crazy homeless guy outside with the lazy eye, but the good one was on her). Within a span of three minutes she had walked into a diner, sat down, and obtained the kind of following Angelina Jolie dreamt about.
Everything had seemed so slow and absorbing I hadn’t even noticed that she had sat right next to me at an obviously barren counter. I began to suspect that either something very good or something very embarrassing was about to ensue and it was a crap shoot over which one it would be once I made my move. The only thing I really remember from this encounter and several after it were small things about her, like that smile. The one I got as soon as I said something to her. The truth is I don’t quite remember what it was that I said to her, I wish I could be for reason’s I can’t explain it has left my memory. But it was good and, the best part was, it worked.
For the next five or six weeks we would call each other on the telephone and make dates to walk through the city together. I would make her laugh which would bring out that smile. That was all I ever needed to feel like I was in heaven. I grew crazier about her by the day, and just when it seemed that I would have an aneurysm and die from pressure I asked her to be my one and only. In case you were wondering, she said yes.
It was in the beginning of this relationship that our love was really forged. I had been working as a staff writer for rolling stone when it first started up. It had become an instant hit overnight and I was lucky enough to be along for the ride. My job had awarded me with a lot more money than I was used to, and I was able to afford a bigger more comfortable and inviting apartment. When I got it I made sure it was big enough for two, and she moved in with me as we rolled into our sixth month of dating. Every day I saw her smile was one more day that I could live, she had become as important to me as the oxygen I breathed. It made my heart swell with warmth when she told me this same thing our first night in the new apartment. I had officially become happy for the first time in my life. All because of her.
After being in the new place for about 3 months she came home with the great news that she had gotten the job she had been trying for, for years. She had been signed on as the new director of creativity at a local, and rather prominent, theater. She had always loved the arts and had even graduated from college with an art history degree. This had brought her into a new world of happiness, as well as money. We decided to start saving for something we might want. Which, one year later, was a trip to Bermuda. Which entailed tanning on the beach, eating fresh seafood at romantic restaurants, and a proposal which became and engagement. When we got back she had a unique glow about her which never seemed to fade even in the later years. The wedding was seven months later. Four months after that we moved into a house outside of the city.
I remember one of the nights of the first few weeks we had been in the new house. I was laying in bed next to her. She was looking at me with her smile beaming her energy into the room. A long time ago before I had even thought about girls, my father told me a story about when he met my mother. He said one day after they had been dating for a while he looked at her, and he said what he saw was the most beautiful sight in the world, and at that moment he knew he was in love. When I asked him what he meant by love he only had one thing to say. “Falling in love is the most important thing you will ever do, and when you do there will be no doubt in your mind that, that is exactly what is going on. The mind doesn’t need to understand when all the heart needs to do is feel.” And this moment was the first moment in my life that I truly understood what he meant when he said that. Nine months later he passed away. Nine months after that night with her our first child was born, a son. I named him Thomas, after my father.
We had three more kids after Tom, who now is a creative writing and romantic literature professor at Leslie College. Two years later we had Vincent who now looks exactly as I did 30 years ago and is now a CEO of a major marketing firm. One year after him we had Alice. She was just as if not more beautiful than her mother. Our only daughter, she married to a very successful doctor and holds a similar position to her mothers as the creative director at the Smithsonian. She looks just like her mother now and has two kids of her own. Two girls; Ellen and Grace. Both are incredibly beautiful girls, just like their mother. And our last was Eric. He now is a famous author with 5 books in circulation and a sixth on the way. Having never been able to write anything myself, after years of trying, I was, and still are to this day, the happiest father in the world.
For my seventy fifth birthday the kids all got the two of us a vacation package to go back to Bermuda to revisit the place where I proposed. I had never in all my years seen a smile so honest and happy as I did that day. I laugh when I think about it. The most beautiful she ever was, in my eyes, was when she was seventy two. Four months later, and two weeks before the trip, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. And it was then, in those fifteen minutes at the doctors office, the dream I had been living for all these years had become a nightmare.
For three years she fought tooth and nail, and for a while it looked as though she was going to pull through. But then, in the last three months of her life she got really bad. She was in chemo all the time, her hair had fallen out and showed no signs of growing back. But through all of it, even when the pain and depression were at their worst, she was always smiling. All she would ever say was she was sorry for ruining the trip. All I could tell her was that Bermuda was simply a place, the vacation was being with her. For three months I barely slept and laid with her at the hospital. And then that day came. The one I’ll never forget.
It’s kind of sad how you remember people. The smells, facial expressions, and for me I always seem to remember what they say before they go. When you develop these kind of habits you look for the ones that stand out, the ones you don’t ever want to forget, the ones you hear right before you fall asleep at night. That was her. I woke up that morning knowing it would be that day. I could see in her eyes that she knew it too. Knowing there was nothing we could do, we did our best to make the most of our last day. We did what anyone would have done, we laid inside holding each other talking about the past. Smiling.
As she was fading out and I could feel she was leaving she said something to me. And I was happy that of all the last statements she could have made, that was it. What she said was; “That first day we met what you said to me was, ‘Excuse me but I noticed you are eating alone, would you mind if I join you? Someone with such a beautiful smile should not have to eat in solitude,’ I memorized those words and I hear them every night before I go to sleep. That was the moment I fell in love with you and decided to spend the rest of my life by your side. I know your upset. I know you’re going to miss me. Just remember that no matter what, my love for you will always be there. As will I, just close your eyes.” As she finished talking her eyes closed and gracefully she passed on. At that moment in time a part of me left along with her. I suppose I’ll get it back when I see her again. Whenever that is.
Four months after this interview Brian Dearborn died of natural causes. He was seventy seven years old. He was cremated and upon his directions his wives ashes, along with his own, were placed in the same container and have been spread under the new construction site of where the diner they first met used to be.
Several weeks after his death I met his son Eric at his newest books premiere signing, he told me the night his father died he, and all his siblings, shared the same dream. The dream was of Brian and his wife in their younger years sitting on a beach in Bermuda sharing a kiss, both with smiles on their faces, both glowing, and both in love.
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