MOTHER NATURE

From my eighth floor window I can clearly see two large gray elephants locking their trunks together. No female they may be dueling over is in sight. I slide my Braun electric tooth brush to the end of the travertine counter, feel its tingle while I stare at the two elephants. The one on the right that seems stronger to me, lets go and disappears. The first rays of daybreak have sent him roaring away just as an unexpected lightning bolt electrifies its tail. What a show to start my day! The lightning has forced me to quickly shut off my shower, my toothbrush, close my window shades to wait out the storm.

I don’t wait long. No storm comes. There is no more lightning, not a drop of rain. A childhood image of elephants, circuses, friends rushes in, makes me wonder about my adulthood, my sanity. Something is going on. Too many childish thoughts come faster and faster. They make me angry, make me cry, make me smile, want to stay in that world.

My very best girlfriend appeared to me after the elephant left. We were on the Dangler in the amusement park, going faster than the wind until I was sure the chain would break and I’d go flying into the sky. My friend, what was her name? I try and try to remember but can’t. Going thru the alphabet letter by letter, putting names to each letter gets me nowhere. I try again, Betty, Barb, Brenda. She is with me but her name is not.

Shake it off, shake it off. Let go like the elephant did, I say so softly to myself that I don’t pay attention. That’s when I hear the shower still running. I drop my robe on the scatter rug and get under the spray that is now luke warm. The hot water is down the drain. Warm is good, too. I relax, suds myself to the max, let the tepid water wash all of me, open the shower door and yell to the ceiling, ‘Bess, Bess, I remember your name now. Do you ever think of me, of us, of the fights and fun we used to have? A certain satisfaction comes over me. I knew I knew her name so I feel cleaner and better.

At ten a.m. my phone rings and I think for an instant it is going to be mental telepathy and it will be Bess, the Bess I haven’t heard from inforty years. Stranger things have happened–but not this time. A supposed fireman asks me for a donation and I am ready with my usual reply, ‘Sorry I give no donations to phone callers,’ and hang up.

My mood turns to sour lemons. Today is another do-nothing day until an idea squeezes in. I go to my bedroom closet, appraise the top shelf, and see my grammar school autograph books, at least a dozen. Leaning against that stack are photo albums with many black corners dried up, the photos crooked, fading. Aha! Harrison High year books for 1942 and ‘43. I take them both down and walk slowly to the living room, almost tasting what I will see. The raised gold letters on the cover feel like magical stars. I feel the smoothness of the glossy pages. Page by page I recall every teacher, their voices, their courses, their old style dresses. The classrooms smell musty. There are so many committee pictures that I am not on. There I am, my long blond hair almost covering my eyes, Editor in Chief of the Harrison Herald, two years in a row.

Posed stiff pictures of all the graduates, alphabetically arranged, hold my attention. I talk to a few who wrote notes for the future under their names. And then, then I see her, she breathes, my very best girlfriend. Under her picture I blink, don’t understand. Her name is Gloria Graham, not Bess at all. I close the book and sob to Gloria. ‘Forgive me old friend. I goofed. I won’t forget your name ever again. It is etched in stone.’ Before I put the book back on the shelf, I take the time search, for a Bess.