Looking out of the dining room window, she blows the steam billowing out of the hot cup of tea. A tightly wadded up paper sits next to her trembling hand. Light snow falls upon a white landscape, shining brilliantly as it catches the morning sun. She winces. She puts down the cup of tea. She picks up the memory and it unfurls its wings.
“Tell me about the future again.”
“Okay. There is a cottage by the river. To the left, a blooming garden stands out among wild weeds and tall grass. It’s so tall that if you were to walk through this grass, it would engulf you completely.”
“The grass would eat me up?”
“Yes, but it would feel like soft feathers being wrapped around you, one by one.”
-—
“To the right, there’s a path that leads out of the tree windbreak onto the prairies beyond. A well-used bicycle rests against the foundation of the house. There’s mud encrusted in the tires. You have to remember to clean them as often as you can. If the mud gets too stuck in the spokes of the wheels, it’s harder to peddle. It’s harder on your knees.”
“Okay. I’ll remember.”
“The cottage grows smaller as you grow larger, but that is the truth about everything. And the cottage is everything. It is a library, a study, a writer’s haven, a painter’s muse, a lover’s embrace-”
“What’s inside the cottage?”
“Let me finish. The cottage welcomes you with warm arms on a cold day and swirls cool air around your ankles on warm ones.”
“But what’s inside the cottage?”
“You will see it soon enough.”
--
“There is a small kitchen. There are dirty cups in the sink, soaking in soapy water. There’s a table with writing supplies and stacks of books all around at the back of the cottage. Bookshelves make a false wall, dividing the main room in two; on one side, you eat. On the other, sometimes you sleep. Sometimes you just sit and stare out of the window. Upstairs, there is a bed piled with blankets. Actually, there are piles of blankets all over the cottage. A chest of memories sits firmly at the foot of the bed-”
“An actual chest? With a lock and everything?”
“An actual chest. With a lock and everything.”
“Is this really the future?”
“It can be if you want it to be. It will be if you wish it hard enough.”
“But that’s not what Grandpa said. Grandpa said that I will have a different life, far away from the cottage, far away from you, in a strangers’ house with even stranger smells.”
“I know what Grandpa said. But hear what I am saying to you right now. You choose the life you will have. You choose the cottage or the strangers’ house or something that even I haven’t thought of yet.”
“But I can’t just wish it to make it happen.”
“Why not? You have all the tools to accomplish your dreams at your disposal.”
“Is that what you did?”
“I took too long. You need not take so long.”
“What can I do?”
“Right now, it is what you are. You are full of boundless exuberance that has saved me from falling prey to the dark more times than I can count. You listen with eyes wide open, soaking in the knowledge of the world and people around you like you have been dehydrated. You believe, wholeheartedly, in the good of all things and all people. You’re full of courage and love; these drive you to curiously explore every nook and cranny of the world-”
“Not the whole world! I’m not allowed to leave the apartment complex. Mama has told the watchman uncle, and if he sees me sneaking out, he tells mama, and she gets really, really angry.”
“There are whole worlds within the people around you. That is what I meant. You ask questions of them like you’re trying to understand what substance they are made of.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I have to go soon.”
“Tell me about my future again.”
“Okay. There is a cottage by the river. To the left--”
“No, tell me about how to get there.”
“My heart cries for you. You have to be more courageous than I was. You cannot give up. You cannot give in. Memorize what I am about to tell you and don’t forget it.”
“I don’t want you to cry. I’ll remember it.”
“Don’t take what the adults around you tell you at face value. And don’t hold so many secrets close to your chest, even if they tell you too. Don’t hold yourself back, don’t hold your emotions back - love loudly and refuse to stop even if people say it’s wrong. You’ll meet someone soon - you should know that you can kiss her if you really really want to. She won’t mind, and you won’t mind. Other people might mind but remember - love loudly and don’t let them stop you.”
“Okay I won’t.”
“Remember that you have all the tools to accomplish your dreams at your disposal. You’ll meet amazing people, fall in love, travel the world in small sections. You’ll write color into black-and-white words. You’ll write love letters to her, to him, to them so much that saying I love you will be as easy as exhaling. But remember to say I love you to yourself. Remember to love yourself. Remember me, remember this memory, and remember that when the pathway to the future gets dark or crowded or scary, you are not all by yourself.”
“You’ll be there?”
“I’ll always be there.”
She neatly folds the wings of the memory into a boat. She flattens it and inserts it between the pages of a heavy book. She takes a sip of the tea and looks out of the dining room window. A comfort settles into her bones as the warmth of the cup quiets the trembling of her hand.
“I can’t wait to meet you.”
“Me either.”