Nest Among The Stars

Gift - 16

Dawn came with a cold crimson winter sky, snow lightly falling across its breadth. A frozen mist hovered over the fields, merging them with the forests. It was the first day of the last week of the year. Once, a long time ago, people of diverse nations had considered this day to be a holy day. In the more recent past the significance of the day was enhanced with seasonal celebrations by those holding little or no faith, celebrations meant to lessen the dreariness felt during the darkest month of the calendar. Whether secular or sacred, the day's esteem was accepted by many. For Michael this past regard mattered little. The day itself was consequential only in that it was the day Nathaniel would leave.

Late into the night, the repast complete, they had sat. Their conversation drifted among topics both profound and trivial. Nathaniel managed in his usual way to divulge little about himself. Without once appearing rude or giving occasion for offence, he had guided the talk into consid-erations long forgotten or recently denied. In return Michael was never required to provide his own secrets as fodder for discussion, although he quite often did. Not that it mattered, there being nothing about him which Nathaniel did not already seem to know. They spoke on science, religion, the nature of the universe, God and humanity, and everything and anything touching thereon.

Encouraged by the wine, consumed without concern for the unintended freedom it gave, Michael talked about his wife, her death, and  his loneliness. His grief clung to him. Nathaniel offered an unexplained empathy and by the end of the night Michael felt as though the two of them shared a common soul.

Eventually Michael tired to where he could no longer will himself to continue. Although there remained many questions unanswered, he was forced by creeping somnolence to retire to the bedroom upstairs. Prior to withdrawing he had extracted three promises from his companion. First, he would leave Earth early in the morning, well in advance of the Aliens arriving; second, that Michael would wake up in the bed, in the house, in his own time period; and finally, Nathaniel would not leave before they again had an opportunity to talk. Nathaniel had laughed heartily at this, saying the first two promises were guaranteed while the third promise was not necessary to give. A hug rather than a handshake sealed the bargain and the night was concluded. Michael slept as one having not a care in the world.

Rubbing his eyes with balled hands, Michael yawned then slowly lifted himself from where he sat on the edge of the bed. Climbing into the ancient bath tub he allowed streaming pellets of hot water to wash sleep's residue from his mind. Only after emerging from the bathroom did he realize he was alone in the house. It wasn't just the lack of aroma from coffee not brewing, or the failure of sound and smell from bacon not sizzling in a flat iron pan that caused him mild unease. The house was quiet in a way homes fall silent when a family leaves them for the last time. After only a few seconds of listening in the silence, his heart became heavy.

Breakfast was a solitary affair in a stark kitchen bereft of life. No birds flapped by the window and no fauna could be seen in the distance. After eating warm porridge washed down with a hot black chicory concoction, he wandered into the living room where so recently Mama had offered prayers to her religious icon. Not surprisingly the small statuette was still in place surrounded by used but unlit candles. The infamous portrait which at one time hung prominently on the wall was gone, leaving only the slightest of discoloration as evidence it had ever been in the room. Michael found it a moment later torn into narrow strips and scattered behind the couch.

A small evergreen decorated with colorful ornaments and ribbons stood by the front window. It had been in the room the last time he was there with Mama and Hans. At that time there had been an angel made of porcelain and cloth sitting atop the tree. It was no longer there and he could not see it in the room.