Post #2.7, Tuesday, 11-19-19

Historical Setting: 561 C.E. Gaul

Bright November morning sun – cold and crispy all blaring golden.

         I have so many questions for my newly found son. There is so much I want to know.

         “So, you have a wife and children?”

         “Yes, Papa you are a grandfather. Celeste is the oldest. She is seven years old and Daniel, he is five. Margey is still a suckling babe. And we had another who was born too soon and we laid him on the hill next to his grandmother and the others of my brothers and baby sister.”

         “Oh, that was the new grave I saw there. I visit that hill to place flowers when I’m nearby in my travels. On my first visit back, when I had a hope of finding some one of us I saw our house was torn down and buried.  So I was no longer searching. I was only grieving. Then these years later I saw a new cottage where ours had been; there was a vineyard, the fields were being tended and children were at play so I thought our neighbors must have a new generation of family in their cottage which was the same. It is a wonder for me now to realize I was seeing my own grandchildren. I thought it was my crazy wishes that made the little girl appear to have your mother’s eyes and her smile. And now I realize I wasn’t imagining.

          “Celeste does resemble her grandmother. That is such a gift. Yes Papa. I have had that same thought.”

         “I have always kept a secret hope that the monk I met would have heard my plea on that terrible day when I passed into death and he would have come immediately down from Civitas Turonorum, or Tours as you say, and find you all alive and able to mend to healing. And I would understand if you wanted no part of a father who would abandon his children when they were sick and most in need. Really all I wanted was to believe there was a way for you to be cared for. I could do nothing but to try to find someone to help you.”

         “Was it you that left yellow flowers on Mother’s grave?”

         “Yes, I did place yellow flowers when I was nearby in a season when the yellow flowers bloomed.”

         “I thought it was Enola. So when I saw the flowers I felt sure I could find her nearby. I didn’t know what had happened to her but I kept searching.”

         “Where was she?  How did you find her?”

(Story continues tomorrow)

Published by J.K. Marlin

Retired church playwright learning new art forms-- fiction writing, in historical context and now blogging these stories. The Lazarus Pages have a recurring character -- best friend of Jesus -- repeatedly waking to life in various periods of church history and spirituality.

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