Lynne Lager Scriven

She sits in her bentwood rocker on the porch rocking gently backward and forward, enjoying the soothing rhythm that hypnotizes an arthritic body.  The once black Indian tresses of youth have become a silver halo. High cheek bones set off enormous hazel eyes and well-defined laugh lines surround the mouth.

A brightly colored afghan covers the warm cable knit sweater, faded blue jeans and worn moccasins.  She is snug and cozy and relishes the sense of well-being as her eyes eagerly search the Eastern sky for Old Sol and the magnificent sunrise to come.  Memories of days gone by creep in providing easy, pleasurable thoughts.  Now, more than ever, she is aware of her own mortality, accepting and embracing it as she basks in each new day.

Born twenty-four minutes before midnight on a hot and sultry June twentieth day, she barely slid in under the sign of Gemini.  Being born on the cusp is a saving grace according to some.  They say that the good Cancer traits balance the undesirable parts of the Gemini.  She knows better; she’s Gemini through and through.  Nothing comes in half measures to those born under the sign of the twins and so it has been for her.

The road she’s chosen has rarely been smooth, fraught with unexpected twists and turns and an occasional dead-end.  Not an easy route, but a challenging one filled with pleasure and some pain.  The blessings have been many.  Greatest among them are three children and a passel of grandchildren, all providers of knowledge and joy.  The failures have been numerous; too many to mention.

Long after her divorce from her first husband, she met and married her Prince Charming.  He recognized her as someone not to be fettered and urged her to seize freedom, chase rainbows and be as good or as bad as she chose with the assurance his love for her would only grow.  She followed her dreams and he kept his promise.  An unbidden tear slipped down her cheek as she thought of darling Phillip, no longer earth bound, but with her always.

So many gifts in a lifetime and all of them relished.  No regrets about having stood strong for what she believed.  Only peace when remembering her few courageous acts that were so audacious they frightened her.  So many talents to be thankful for:  pictures painted, songs sung, afghans crocheted, stories and poems written and read.  A plethora of memories of time spent with friends and family, long walks hand and hand with Phillip and the luxury of watching sunrises and sunsets from beginning to end.

She had lived life and never failed to realize there was a Creator who held her in the palm of His hand laughing when she laughed and holding her close when she grieved.

Yes, I’ve had it all she thought.  Lifting the cup of freshly brewed coffee, she savored the satisfying taste of the aromatic brew.  Placing the cup back on the antique tea cart next to the rocker, she reached for the package of cigarettes, removed one and lit it.  Will I ever break this habit, she wondered, as she inhaled her first puff.  Probably not, a little late in the game to be thinking about that and the many other vices so easily adopted over a lifetime.  Could there be anything more enjoyable than a lavish gourmet meal or an expensively exotic chocolate or a glass of deep red Cabernet wine?  No, not possible.  Bad habits all, especially at her age, but no regrets; just gratitude for a life so filled, so satisfying, so blessed.

Later that day her granddaughter, Anna, stopped for afternoon tea, as was her habit.  She and Nana loved each other fiercely.  After parking her car on the street, Anna opened the gate and started up the walk toward the porch shouting hello and waving to her Nana who was seated in the old rocker.  Strange, thought Anna, no return wave.  An unbidden feeling of dread enveloped her.  She raced to her grandmother and the now still rocking chair, coffee cold in the cup, cigarette burned out. She knelt down beside the silent figure, already knowing there would be no more afternoon teas or laughter or long talks with her Nana.

Sobs racked her body as she gave free reign to the tears.  She, like Nana, was a Gemini.  And, like all true Gemini’s, Anna was feeling both sides of a double-edged blade; great sadness at the loss of her precious grandmother and immeasurable joy knowing Nana was at last with her beloved Phillip again.  Nana had been looking forward to that.