No Vacancy

  I packed her suitcases for her and sent her out the door.  She looked back with the eyes of a child.  Eyes that begged for a second chance, but I quickly shut the door and went back to baking.  Once the pie was in the oven and the aroma of sweet sugar and apples filled the air, I made my way upstairs to her room.  Her room was tidy as always. The top of the sheets were crisply and perfectly folded over the top of her old quilt.  The nightstand was free of clutter and only displayed her small black Bible and a picture of a serene landscape somewhere in France.  Although she was tidy and a bit of a neat freak she had always taken me by surprise in the times she was a bit abrasive and audaciously proclaimed her beliefs.

  She had been near and dear to me; helped me through the thicket and mazes of difficult times.  She was always patient and always there in her room when I needed her.  She wasn't the reason that I packed her suitcases.  A change had occurred in me somewhere between brokenness and bitterness.  I had stopped spending time with her and talking to her.  I no longer held on to her words of wisdom and love, but instead let each word fall through my fingers and dissolve.  As I looked out of her window part of me wished she would be walking back up the dusty drive way and toward the house. 

 Her room was so empty.  It was so unimportant without her to occupy it.  Without her between the walls, the room was simply four walls and a ceiling without sentimental value.  We had always joked that God had sent her my way just to keep me company.  Behind a haze of warm tears and see through curtains I wondered if perhaps it was true after all.  Before her, I had been in a dark and dangerous place.  Each day seemed like it was a routine- a routine that was too big for me to do alone.  It wasn't the mundane acts of getting dressed, brushing my teeth, and running errands that distressed me.  It was the aimless wondering in my mind that stained my pillow with tears each night. 

   Then, she showed up and shown a light on everything.  She didn't necessarily make my life perfect, but she helped me to manage.  I was led on a road of self-discovery by her.  She helped me to realize that life wasn't just meant to be lived, but it was meant to be enjoyed. She showed me that with her, I coud get through anything. She was the reason I woke up on mornings that followed horrific nights.  I suppose most of the people she had come into contact with before would describe her as a soft-spoken and gentle lady.  In my home and in my life she was more than what met the eye. She became a woman fierce with the pursuit of justice and love.  She helped me to hold on when letting go seemed like the best thing to do. 

   I had kicked her out.  I  had packed her bags and sent her walking.  She was sent away because I couldn't relate to her anymore.  A division in the form of my self-sufficiency had come between us.  I had to push her out of my life and then, I pushed her out of my front door.  Now, my house and my life were empty without her.  I had to find her.  The smell of cinnamon apples wafted into her vacant room and wrapped around me as I ran down the stairs.  I pushed through the screen door and ran onto the front porch and yelled out her name. 

   I heard my echo accompanied by the rusty creaking sound of the porch swing.  She was sitting on the swing with her suitcases and bags at her feet.  I smiled with relief and then cowered at the hurt on her face.  She wiped tears from her cheek and waited for me to speak.

"I need to get through this.  You're the only way I'm going to be able to.", I said as she stood up and picked up one of her suitcases. "I think that God really did send you here."

She looked at me and smiled, slightly biting her bottom lip.

"God did send me here... just for you.  That's why I never left."

I hugged her and held on tightly.  I held HOPE tightly and I never let her go again.   Homemade apple pie tasted so much better with HOPE there because I knew that HOPE was going to be there when I woke up the next morning and every morning after that.