while, I did. I have the dream often now, almost every night, some nights more than once: The sky darkens; the tortured oaks sway heavy with moss; the night's soft breeze stirs with anger and fear. I am once more m that nameless place of graves and monuments. I stare down at the hard black rectangle, burning to know who lies within the earth, but no name marks this resting place. I have spent my whole
life searching for the secrets I do not know.
The earth calls my name.
I stoop. I place my palms on the marble, and gasp at the cold. Ice crawls up my arms like ants beneath my skin. I lurch to my feet and try to run, but my legs will not answer. The wind rises, bending the trees. Shadows flicker at the edge of light, and voices whisper.
My mother appears in the mist. She is young, the way
she was, and fragile as a baby's breath.
'Mama! Mama, help me!'
She floats against the wind like a spirit.
''Please, you have to help me! ''
I reach for her, praying she will take my hand, but she hovers without response as if she does not see. I want her to save me from the secrets here. I want her to protect me from the truth.
'I'm scared. I don't want to be here, but I don't know how to leave. I don't know what to do. ''
I hunger for her warm th. I need the safety of her arms. I
34I
try to go to her, but my feet are rooted deeply. 'I can't move. Help me, Mama. '' She sees me. I know she sees me because her eyes fill with sorrow. I reach for her until my shoulders scream but she is too far away. I am furious. I hate her and love her in the same awful moment. 'Goddamnit, I don't want to be alone anymore. I never wanted to be alone.' The winds rise to a howl; a bit of her blows away like smoke. 'Mama, please! Don't leave me again!'' Cracks scribe over her as if she were a puzzle. A piece of her blows away. Then another. 'Mama!' The pieces that were my mother blow away. Not even a shadow remams. Not even a shadow. She is gone. She has left me. I stare at the grave with a broken heart. In the strange way of this life, a shovel appears in my hands. If I dig, I will find; ff I find, I will know. The black earth opens. The casket is revealed. A voice that is not my own pleads for me to stop, to look away, to save myself from what lies here, but I no longer care. I am alone. I want the truth, I push my hands into the cold earth and pry my fingers beneath the lid. Splinters pierce my flesh. The casket opens with a scream. I stare at the small body, and I am looking at myself. The child is me. He opens his eyes. He sobs with joy as I lift him from the crypt, and throws his arms around me. We hold each other tight. ''It's all right,' I say. 'I found you, and I will never leave.' 343
The wind rages. Leaves tumble across the tombs and tt damp mist cuts through my clothes, but all that matters that I have found him.
His laughter is a chime in the darkness. So is mine.
'You're not alone, '' I say. 'You will never again alone.'
