The Journey to Eternity — Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Last Day

Chapter Thirty-Seven of my book, The Journey to Eternity, shared here chapter by chapter as I write it. Earlier chapters: Chapter One · Chapter Two · Chapter Three · Chapter Four · Chapter Five · Chapter Six · Chapter Seven · Chapter Eight · Chapter Nine · Chapter Ten · Chapter Eleven · Chapter Twelve · Chapter Thirteen · Chapter Fourteen · Chapter Fifteen · Chapter Sixteen · Chapter Seventeen · Chapter Eighteen · Chapter Nineteen · Chapter Twenty · Chapter Twenty-One · Chapter Twenty-Two · Chapter Twenty-Three · Chapter Twenty-Four · Chapter Twenty-Five · Chapter Twenty-Six · Chapter Twenty-Seven · Chapter Twenty-Eight · Chapter Twenty-Nine · Chapter Thirty · Chapter Thirty-One · Chapter Thirty-Two · Chapter Thirty-Three · Chapter Thirty-Four · Chapter Thirty-Five · Chapter Thirty-Six.

Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Last Day

On the day Mira was to leave, I woke with a strange feeling.

There was no fear in me, and yet something weighed on me. I thought about Aris, about the small house with the blue door, and about the coat Mira had sewn for him. I wondered how one parts from a person one loves when there is no reason for the parting other than the wish to begin anew.

Liara was waiting for me beside the pool.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"I think so."

"You know, you do not have to be there."

"I want to."

She smiled and held out her hand to me.

This time the passage opened almost at once.

The town was different.

The shops were open, people moved about the streets, but no music was heard in the square. Colored ribbons had been tied on the great tree at its center, and many of the townspeople carried flowers in their hands.

The silver one stood in front of the bakery.

"I waited for you!" she called.

She was slightly different. Her light had become steadier, and within it warm shades appeared that I had not seen before.

"You look different," I said.

"I know. I managed to make bread myself."

She pointed proudly at a small loaf that lay in the window.

"The baker said it came out a little hard, but Aris ate two slices of it."

"Where is he now?"

"At home. Mira asked everyone to come to the square when the sun reaches above the tree."

I looked around.

"Is everyone coming to part from her?"

"Yes. But she asked that they not cry the whole time."

The silver one came closer to me.

"Do you think she really will forget everyone?"

"That is what she chose."

"It is strange. I have only just begun to know people. I do not want to forget anyone."

"Perhaps one day you will feel differently."

"Perhaps," she said. "But today I want to remember."

When we reached the home of Aris and Mira, the blue door was open.

Laughter was heard from inside.

Mira stood at the center of the room, surrounded by several women who were helping her fold fabrics and put dishes into cupboards.

"I told you I am leaving, not that the house is disappearing," she complained. "Aris still needs to eat here."

One of the women laughed.

"We are only tidying."

"Then stop tidying my kitchen for me. I cannot find anything anymore."

When she saw me, she smiled.

"You came. Very good. Perhaps you will manage to persuade them to leave things in their places."

I hugged her.

She felt real and warm.

For a moment I forgot that we were in a world where the body is not necessarily what it seems.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Hungry," she answered. "Everyone is busy parting from me, and no one thought to prepare breakfast."

I laughed.

But when I moved a little away, I saw that her hands were trembling.

Aris sat in the yard.

The blue coat lay on his knees.

I sat down beside him.

"She finished it," I said.

"Yes. Last night."

He passed his hand over the fabric.

"She insisted on sewing an inner pocket. She said I always lose things."

"Is she right?"

"Unfortunately."

He smiled, but the smile vanished quickly.

We were silent for a while.

"Are you angry with her?" I asked.

Aris looked toward the street.

"Yesterday I was angry."

"Did you tell her?"

"Yes."

"And what did she say?"

"That she was glad I told her."

He lowered his head.

"I thought that if I told her how hard it is for me, perhaps she would stay. But she only hugged me."

"And do you still want her to go?"

"No."

He turned to me.

"I want her to be happy. It is not the same thing."

Toward midday everyone went out to the square.

Mira wore a simple dress the color of ivory. Her white hair was gathered, and in her hand she held the small book I had seen in her home.

Aris walked beside her.

There was no festive procession.

People approached her, hugged her, said a few words, and moved away.

Someone gave her a flower.

A little girl asked whether she would come back.

Mira knelt before her.

"I do not know, sweetheart."

"Then how will I know it is you if you come back?"

Mira thought for a moment.

"Maybe you will not know."

The girl looked disappointed.

Mira took her hand.

"But if we meet, you can get to know me anew."

The girl smiled.

"I will tell you about our tree."

"I would love that."

At the edge of the square a door opened that I had not noticed before.

It was not attached to any house.

Its frame was made of pale stone, and inside it nothing could be seen but a deep sky, slightly darker than the sky above us.

A tall woman stood beside it.

Her hair was dark, and her face looked young, but her eyes carried the quiet of one who had seen countless partings.

Mira approached her.

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes," the woman answered. "But you can still change your mind."

"I know."

"Even after you enter, you will have one last chance to choose."

I looked at Adra.

She stood beside me quietly.

"Who is that?" I whispered.

"The Keeper of the Threshold."

"Does she decide who may pass?"

"No. She makes sure no one passes without understanding what he is about to lose."

Mira turned to the people gathered in the square.

"I am not good at farewell speeches," she said.

Several people laughed.

"So I will not try. I only want to say that I was happy here. Even on the days when I was not happy."

She smiled.

"Look after the tree, and do not let Aris mend the fence alone in the rain again."

The laughter mingled with tears.

Mira looked at Aris.

"And you, wear the coat."

He nodded.

She went to him.

They embraced for a long time.

I did not hear what they said to one another.

Afterward Mira stepped one step back.

Aris still held her hand.

For a moment I thought he would not manage to let her go.

But he opened his fingers.

The Keeper of the Threshold held out her hand to Mira.

"Before you cross, you must lay down here what you cannot take."

Mira held out the book to her.

"Not the book," said the Keeper. "That you may leave to whomever you wish."

Mira looked at her.

"Then what?"

"The knowledge of who you were."

The silence in the square deepened.

"How does one lay down such a thing?" Mira asked.

"You do not need to do anything. Only agree that you will not be able to hold on to it on the other side."

Mira closed her eyes.

For a moment it seemed that the light around her body was changing.

Then she opened them.

"I agree."

The door widened.

I thought Mira would simply enter and disappear.

But the moment she stepped into the opening, the air around us changed.

The street vanished from my eyes.

In its place I saw a vast space, with countless points of light moving in different directions.

Some of them passed quickly.

Others lingered, turned, as if searching for something.

And Mira stood among them.

She no longer looked like an old woman.

Her human form slowly dissolved, and from within it came a gentle light the color of gold.

I heard her voice.

"Aris?"

He came closer to the door.

"I am here."

"I still remember you."

"I know."

"I do not want to forget you now."

My heart contracted.

The Keeper of the Threshold said nothing.

Mira remained in her place.

The light around her trembled.

Then she turned.

For a moment I was certain she was about to return.

But Mira did not return.

She held out her hand to Aris, and he came closer, to the very edge of the door.

"I am afraid," she said.

"So am I."

"Perhaps I should have stayed."

Aris looked at her.

"You still can."

She lowered her head.

"I know."

He waited.

He did not try to persuade her.

At last she raised her eyes to him.

"I want to go."

Aris nodded.

"Then go."

Mira smiled at him for the last time.

"Thank you for loving me even when you did not understand me."

She moved away.

Her light began to move among the other points of light.

I thought that with this everything was over.

But then something happened that I had not expected.

A small point of light parted from the space and approached Mira.

It was very faint, almost invisible.

Mira stopped.

The small light circled her once.

Then I heard a child's voice.

"Are you coming?"

Mira turned to him.

"Who are you?"

"I do not know."

"Then why are you waiting for me?"

"Because I am afraid to go alone."

Mira looked back.

I could see Aris standing beside the door, the people in the square, and the house with the red roof at the end of the street.

Afterward she turned to the small light.

"I am afraid too," she said.

"Really?"

"Very much."

"Then perhaps we will go together."

Mira held out her hand to him.

The two lights moved side by side.

They did not merge.

They did not become one light.

They simply continued together into the space.

The door closed.

The square looked again as it had been.

People stood in silence.

Aris did not move.

He looked at the place where Mira had vanished, as if she might return at any moment and say she had forgotten something at home.

I approached him.

I did not know what to say.

He looked at me and smiled a tired smile.

"She was always like that."

"How?"

"Even when she was afraid, she found someone to be afraid with."

He lowered his gaze to the book she had left in his hands.

"I think she will be all right."

When we returned to the pool, the silver one remained in the square.

She stood beside the baker, who had sat down on a bench and was weeping quietly.

The silver one hovered beside her.

She did not try to comfort her with words.

She only stayed.

I saw her draw a little closer, until her light illuminated the baker's hands.

The baker raised her head and smiled at her.

Then the passage closed.

On the way back we did not speak much.

I thought about Mira and about the small light she had met beyond the door.

She had set out to begin anew, and yet the first thing she did was hold out a hand to someone who was afraid.

Perhaps not everything disappears when we forget.

Perhaps there is something in us deeper than memory, something that continues to exist even when we no longer know who we were.

But I could not know whether that was truth, or only what I wanted to believe.

When we reached the garden, Liara stopped.

"Do you think you would choose your human life again?" she asked.

I looked at her.

I thought about my children, about the years that had passed, about everything I had loved and everything I had lost.

"Yes," I answered.

She smiled.

"Even if you had known in advance how hard it would be for you to leave them?"

I did not answer at once.

Then I said:

"Especially then."

In the evening I returned alone to the pool.

The sky had darkened, and the trees were reflected in the water.

I thought about Aris, who would return to his home and find the blue coat lying on the chair he had mended.

I thought about Mira, who was already on her way to a life she would not remember.

And about the little boy who walked beside her.

He did not know who she was.

She did not know who he was.

And yet they chose not to walk alone.

I sat down on the stone and listened to the wind.

For the first time since I left my human body, I did not ask to know what would happen to me in a hundred years, or in a thousand.

I wanted only to return tomorrow to the town, to meet Liara, to hear how Ayla was, and to discover whether the silver one had managed to bake bread that did not come out too hard.

Then, from within the water, a small sound was heard.

Not a voice.

Not a knock.

Something that resembled a child's laughter.

I looked at the pool.

Across the surface of the water passed a golden light, so thin that I almost did not see it.

It vanished before I could draw closer.

I remained sitting a while longer.

I did not know whether it was a sign from Mira, an echo of the passage, or something else entirely.

This time I did not run to look for an answer.

I rose and went home.

End of Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight — The Way Out →

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