Moving Day | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Moving Day | Previous Challenge Entry
By Gini Branch
03/07/06
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Mary sat quietly, going through the last few things in the cupboard. She had packed everything else. This would be the hardest part. She’d waited until the end, and for a time when she knew she would be alone. Memories swept over her. Only yesterday he’d been there with her. Or so it seemed. And now he was gone, and she had to leave her home. John insisted. She cradled a tiny box in her hand, raised its lid and looked at that fine wisp of hair that lay inside. She’d saved it all these years. “Silly,” she thought, but still she treasured it. He had just turned one when this snippet came from his head. “So fine, and curly too. Always so hard to comb after his bath.” She remembered those moments. His squeals of delight as he splashed in the water. She smiled even as a tear rolled down her cheek.

She wrapped his lock of hair with a short piece of red yarn from a shawl Elizabeth had woven for her while she waited for her John to be born. “Such a fiery child. Meant to be a prophet,” she thought as she fingered the yarn. Mary had worn that shawl on the trek to her husband’s home town. She massaged her back gently. Seemed like ages ago now. Elizabeth’s John had been gone more than a year now.

The box that held Mary’s treasure had been made by her husband in his wood shop. Just a simple token of his affection. He’d carved it from acacia wood, just a small piece, probably a scrap, but it was still special to her. “Such a good husband,” she thought. “It hadn’t been easy for him. All the rumors. He was so strong for me. For us.”

The fragrance of frankincense wafted through the still air around her. She’d saved a tiny bit from the gifts the travelers from the East had given her son. It protected the box’s linen lining from the elements. White linen. A practice swatch from the tailor shop. It was the last of the linen garments made for the priests. Zechariah had given it with her. The priests had all fled or died. There would be no more of this linen for a long time.

Mary caressed the wispy lock of hair one last time and placed it back into its box. She had known him as a child and now as her savior. She sealed the cupboard, picked up the last bundle, and left her home. His home. Their home.

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