Day Eight: It is a chilly, autumn day, far different from the wonderful, warm weather of summer, but don't let that discourage you. Change has always been a constant in life. From the moment we enter this world, our bodies, thoughts, wants, wishes, fears, joys, etc have been constantly changing and evolving. Sometimes it is fun to go back and see how you have changed over the years. This next snippet deals with the ever popular mermaids. However, it deals with the incredible change that occurs on an island inhabited by humans. I think quite a few people would move to this island if they could.
Mermaid Isle
My old, wrinkled hands, like dried up prunes, shook as I tried to peel potatoes for dinner. I sighed. The Mermaid Moon couldn’t come soon enough for me. Something bright caught my eyes, and I watched my granddaughter run up the front steps in her yellow sundress. Mayla burst through the front doors screaming something that was probably grandmother but sounded like a dull clang through water to my ears. I turned toward the sound to see her smiling at me, her white teeth contrast against her pale skin and sunflower dress. I tried to smile back, suddenly conscious of my lack of teeth. Mayla scoffed at my shoddy attempt at peeling shooing me away. I think she might have said the words: nap, last day, relax, and love. I sighed and shuffled over to the couch, cursing my stiff legs. I paused and realized that soon I wouldn’t have legs. Smiling slightly, I laid down and was soon snoring lightly. I woke some time later to gentle shaking. My daughter, Shanna, peered down at me, blurry and dark in the dimming light. I read her lips, “It’s time.” She helped me to my feet and we walked to the bedroom. She helped me put on a light blue, shimmery, transparent dress over a white slip. She let my white hair flow free and brushed all the tangles out. No shoes, of course. My only son, Dax, and second daughter, Farra, entered the room and greeted me. I think I might have missed some questions so I just smiled and nodded. Then Dax handed me a necklace. It was a infinity symbol with three jewels: an emerald, a sapphire, and a ruby. Patting his hand fondly, I allowed Farra to put it around my neck. Taking one last look around my room of ninety years, I nodded and the four of us slowly walked down to the ocean. Lanterns and torches lit our way. The smell of burning wood and incense was strong enough even my nose could smell it. Lightening bugs and fireflies drifted in and out, randomly appearing and disappearing. The dirt below my feet had been carefully kept free of rocks and the sound of the waves crashing on the beach grew louder as we neared the edge of the island. The whole town had gathered on the sandy shores, chatting pleasantly and eating fresh fruit, mashed potatoes, and grilled fish. When they saw us they began to cheer and clap. My daughter-and-sons-in-law, plus my seven grandchildren, including Mayla, ran up to us placing flowers on our necks. They placed only one flower necklace on me. They were deep blue with white on the tips; the Ocean Wave Flower that only grew on the sides of the cliff and was only picked for this occasion.
I spent the next hour―or was it three?―shaking hands, receiving congratulations, and nibbling my last meal. Finally, though the hour had come. I moved to the water’s edge and everyone drew away. I breathed in the salty, sea air and looked back at Mermaid Isle one last time. Turning back, I took a shaky step into the oncoming wave. It was warm and as the warmth flowed up my leg I took another, more solid, step forward. Lifting up my dress and gazing up at the luminous Mermaid Moon, I smiled.
When the water hit my knees I looked at my hands. Shaky, wrinkled hands were now smooth and firm. My eyesight returned along with all my other senses. The wind blew my hair and I saw that it had returned to the shimmery black it had been in my youth. The tan was gone from my skin and had become the pearly white that mermaids had. My strength returned and I filled my lungs with air for the last time. Leaping forward into the water, I splashed with my light blue tail once and disappeared into the clear deep.
A great wanderlust took hold of him like an invisible thread pulled him from the house into the open woods. Grabbing his grandmother’s blanket Sam pushed the front door open. Mopsy barked enthusiastically, following his friend and master out of the stuffy house. At first Sam moved jerkily, like a wooden puppet in the hands of a master puppeteer warming up his joints. After passing the mailbox though he broke into a fluid run following the well-worn path between the orchard and forest. A foggy haze blanketed the air, dulling the sun and his mother’s frantic call for him to return.
