A Transformative Tale

On her way towards the farmer’s market, Libby trudged past the ancient Masonic Building on Main Street. The late summer sun dried her tears, while the early fall breeze carried them away. This glorious interplay of warmth and coolness only intensified her loss. Just ahead, at the intersection of Walnut and Main, a predator sensed her pain and prepared to ambush her. As Libby stepped into the crosswalk, a young woman and a little boy emerged from the other end. The woman was clasping the boy’s hand. In her other hand, she carried a tote bag brimming with produce and specialty items from the farmer’s market.

  As they passed each other, the little boy said, “Mommy mommy. Can I smell the soap again?” “Okay, Felix,” said the mother warmly, “but this is the last time.” She handed the boy a brick of soap with an apple orchard design on the wrapping. The boy took a big sniff and began jumping up and down. “Grandma squares, Grandma squares,” he shouted with delight.

  At this tiny oasis of joy, Libby let her guard down and smiled at the boy. The bluest beast lurched forth from woeful waters and seized her with crocodilian force. Libby screeched like locked tires. Startled, the beast released her and withdrew back into the woeful waters. The little boy then spoke: “Mommy, watch me blink.”

Libby became aware of a car idling in the middle of Walnut Street. The man behind the wheel had saucer eyes and was clutching the steering wheel. From underneath the car, a brown blur sprang out and dashed across the street. Then, Libby heard the mother’s warm voice: “Can you blink again.”

Libby found herself on the sidewalk of Walnut street standing over a chestnut cat, “Hello Mr. Chestnut. How are you?” she asked. Chestnut began to purr and exposed his tummy. Libby leaned over to pat him, but he pushed himself away with his hind legs. He began backstroking in the sinuous loops of the infinity symbol alongside the Masonic building. Libby laughed. “Where in the world did you come from?” she asked. Chestnut took one of his front paws and jiggled his identification tag hanging from his lavender collar. Libby squinted her eyes and leaned forward. “Felix!” she exclaimed.

Felix sprang to his paws, darted towards an entrance at the side of the masonic building, bound down four stairs, braced his two paws against the front door, and pushed. With a loud creak, the weather-beaten door edged open. Felix slipped through the slit and into the space beyond. Libby focused on the partially opened door with her mouth agape. Then, Felix poked his head back through the crack and said, “Meeoow.” Libby inched closer, but before she could step down, he withdrew his head. Libby descended the steps, and nudged open the door with a tremulous eeeeeeak. Beyond, gaped an impenetrable darkness. She paused at the entranceway – looking, listening, smelling. Nothing… The darkness yielded no echo, no scent, no discernable boundary. “What do you want to show me?” she asked.

From the void, a breeze of sweet lavender caressed her face. Simultaneously, a liquid yellow light gradually unfurled, illuminating a giant column of smooth lavender bricks. The blackness receded to just beyond that column. From that beyond, the sounds of children playing echoed distantly. Then, a beckoning yowl silenced the echoes, “Meeeoommm.” Libby crept around the column and continued into the blackness. As she did so, the light behind her vanished, and a light ahead of her glowed. A gray wall emerged in front of her. Down the center of this wall, a shadowy fissure gashed through a precision-fitted puzzle of varied granite blocks.

Felix poked his head out of the gash and blinked at Libby. She found herself maneuvering her body past the fissure. As she did so, the illumination behind her unspooled into strands. These then threaded around her and into the space beyond. The final threads wove the gash shut into a golden kintsugi seam. In front of her, a constricted hallway burrowed into the beyond… As she touched the rough, uneven plaster walls, she felt the paper-mache trees that Felix had once designed. From beyond, the hall exhaled the scent of lavender, and Libby inhaled a memory. The  November rain pattered against the window of the cafe. Felix hummed along to the song playing on the soundtrack— “Anywhere Is” by Enya. He was drinking his favorite beverage—a lavender London fog. As he raised the mug to his lips, he said “upstairs.”

She found herself looking at dark wooden treads and risers with iron inlays. In front of her, A steep, spiral staircase vined upward. Then, a call beckoned from above. “Mmmooommm, mmmooommm.” Libby began her ascent. As she placed her foot on each stair, she envisioned her son footing the splayed iron pedal of his industrial sewing machine. She could see the needle punctuating the material on the wooden mahogany table. The staircase began to thrum and reverberate.  Thrumthrumthrum…Thwackthwackthwackthwackthwack. Thrumthrumthrum. thwackthwackthwackthwackthwack.

When Libby reached the top of the stairs, the thrumthwacking stopped. She entered a hall of monotone gray concrete that delved forward a short distance before forsaking hope at a dead-end. “Why have you led me to this dead-end?” she asked. A voice both masculine and feminine answered, “The future is past. The past is backwards. Backwards is onwards.” From behind her, the hall exhaled a fragrant breath of lavender and bergamot. Libby turned around. Where the stairs had once been, a canvas of black stretched. Her heart sank, but then a tiny star-like speck emerged in the center of the canvas.

The star began to rapidly expand, and the canvas deepened into a three-dimensional vista. In the background of this vision, a night sky and a day sky merged to form a firmament. In the forefront, the star had transformed into a skein of lavender and yellow yarn. Then, the melodious sound of a bubbling brook murmured from the vista. Both skies began to swirl out of the aperture in whorls and emblazoned the ceiling of the hall. The skein began to spin and unspool yarns that snaked their way out of the portal. They gently caressed Libby as they diverged around her and vined up the walls. As they did so, they sprouted a network of threads that burrowed into the concrete.

The hallway began to reverberate, and the skein dissolved into lavender butterflies with yellow swirls. Libby beamed with joy as the butterflies fluttered past her and alighted on the vines. Then, the androgynous voice spoke: “I love you even in death.” Libby turned back around. “Felix!” she exclaimed. Upon a lavender cloud interspersed with bergamots, he stood weaving upon his antique sewing machine. A luminous strand stretched from the firmament above, passed through his needle, and transformed into vines. The fragrance of Felix wafted into the hall as these vines blanketed the wall and sprouted lavender leaves and luscious yellow fruits. Felix weaved away. With his chestnut beard and calm stoicism, he was the warrior — Odysseus. With his uncreating and creating, he was the weaver– Penelope… He was Felix the warrior weaver.  “Felix,” cried Libby, “come home with me.” Felix stopped weaving and said, “I will forever be everywhere, but never there. Imbibe what we have always already done.

Libby and Felix then blinked in unison. When Libby opened her eyes, she saw blurry gray and felt cold concrete pressing against her nose. She jerked backwards and frantically looked around. All the vines, butterflies, and skies had vanished. She was back in the dim concrete hall; both ends were now dead ends. “Felix, where are you?” she cried. The hall shuddered, and a gong reverberated at the far end of the hall. A golden thread emerged from the concrete of the distant wall and snaked into an infinity symbol. Within the golden loops, Ivory strands wove tightly together into unadulterated white. Black strands then formed pupil-like circles in the two white centers. A second gong sounded, and more black strands began to weave roman numerals around the inner periphery of each loop. A third gong— chestnut strands began weaving into two wooden cases.

Libby crept towards the weaving wall. By the time she got there, the gong had sounded a total of twelve times, and the strands had finished creating a two-faced timepiece. Two identical grandmother clocks were partially embedded in the wall. Their dark-chestnut bodies adjoined on the side. The hour and minute hands of both were frozen at the 12 o’clock position.  

On top of the clock was a flat surface, upon which rested a lavender mug emblazoned with yellow butterflies. As Libby grasped the mug by the handle, she felt warmth radiating from the porcelain and smelled the essence of Felix. Inside the mug was his favorite drink— a lavender London fog. Libby took a sip and beamed. Immediately, the hands on the left-hand clock began spinning backwards while the hands on the right-hand clock began spinning forwards.

From the time piece emanated the ethereal voice of Enya singing “Anywhere Is.” Libby closed her eyes and listened to Felix’s favorite artist. When she opened her eyes, she was in the middle of the hall facing one of the long walls, which had manifested a giant glass window. The two clocks sounded together in a chime that straddled the line between harmony and discord.

Libby looked out the window… A cascading stream; currents upon currents whorling, stretching, diverging griefjoygriefjoygriefjoygriefjoy. New York night, a swath of light, snow falling on a Brooklyn street. Tory Burch, front window, holiday display, cross-stitch birch trees. FelixFelixFelix. He created them. Big heavy studios contractor. He called. “Hello, this is Andrew from Big Heavy studios. I’m looking for Felix. I haven’t heard from him in a while. I know he was looking for gigs.” Remembering… remembering… Her mouth moved. The words shivered like terrified puppies. They didn’t want to go out; she ushered them out. “I’m sorry, Felix passed away a week ago,” she said. “Oh my god, I didn’t know he was that sick…” Andrew cried. Libby cried. “In my thirty years of working in the business, he was the most talented artist I’ve ever worked with,” he said. “That display for Tory Burch…”

Libby blinks. When she opens her eyes, the window is gone. Both of the dead ends are now a canvas of black. From the black where Libby had been, a luminous strand stretches down the hall and enters the black where she had been not. Libby hears a sudden POP! like a cork bursting out of a champagne bottle. The opening theme of the Lawrence Welk show wafts forth from the depths of been-not. A bubble emerges from the canvas of not and drifts down the hall. Within the iridescent orb, Libby sees a burgundy theater curtain open to reveal a stage. Clappingsound. From everywhere and nowhere, a voice speaks. “ACTS presents SEUSSICAL.” Libby claps, bouncing on toes, eyes brightening beamingbeamingbeaming. “Oh, The Turtlelane Theatre,” she said. POP!  bubbleburst. More bubbles. Driftingdriftingdrifting.

Frankie sings in a Grinch costume and wears a Santa hat. My son! POP! Bekah sings in a Who custume. My daughter! POP! On stage, Horton sits in Felixtree and sings. POP! Felixfocus. onewithwork. Felix crafts a paper-mache tree. POP! Backstage. Big brother. Little sister. Felix sits in front of a mirror. Bekah in Who custume with crazy Whohair. Runs her fingers through Felixhair. Felixbekah have crazy Whohair. Bekahfelix laughs. Bekah paints makeup on Felixface. Felixbekah laughs. “Comehome with us,” cries Libby. Crazyhair Felix turns, lookinglookinglooking at Libby. He speaks. “I will forever be everywhere, but never there.” POP!!! Back in the Silent Hall. Luminous strand stretching between the two voids. Water condensing on gray walls – dripdripdrip onto floors. Libby Cries.

The canvas of not-been exhales an autumnal breath unto Libby. The breath of grass, hay, and nuttiness carries her tears away. The luminous strand stretching between the two voids shimmers with hues of red, yellow, and blue.  On the canvas of been-not, tendrils of deep ochers, burnt siennas, and golden ambers branch outward from the strand. The tendrils meld, coalesce, and reveal. Libby finds herself looking at yesteryear’s harvest– a sky of whites and blue, a great field of wheat. People swing scythes, and reap the wheat. This image blurs and then reforms into a tractor mowing a great field of wheat.

That image blurs and reforms into a multistory, industrial brick complex. Towering chimneys extend from the roof of this complex and belch black smoke into the sky. Painted directly on the brick are the words Postum Cereal Co. LTD. From this canvas, a bubble emerges and drifts towards Libby. Inside the shimmering orb, she sees Granny drinking an iced postum. She looks at Libby and begins to speak. Her voice echoes from everywhere and nowhere. “Everything has a reason,” she says. POP! The bubble explodes, and Libby blinks. When she opens her eyes, the been-not canvas has vanished. Behind where the been-not canvas had once been, she sees the luminous strand snaking up a dark wood staircase.

Libby follows the strand up the stairs. From the dark wood, emanates scents of pine tar, old wood and motor oil. “Gramps shop,” she whispers. She follows the strand as the stairs turn to the left. With each step, the stairs speak their mind- eeeek, eeeek, eeeek. The fragrance of Apple Oat Squares begins to mix with the smell of Gramps’ shop. “Oh, Granny’s Apple Oat Squares,” Libby whispers. The sound of her Granny singing the hymn Love at Home floods the stairwell. Libby hears Granny open the oven door — eeek. Libby blinks. When she opens her eyes, she is standing at the entrance of a small room. Granny takes a cast-iron tray of Apple Oat Squares out of the oven — “eeek,” says the oven. She sets the tray on top of the stove, turns towards Libby and blinks. Libby finds herself sitting in a rocking chair. On the brick wall to her right is a large portrait of the Assabet Mill. In front of her, two eye-shaped tables join together at their points to create an infinity table.

Two books rest on the left loop –Twenty Years at the Hull House by Jane Addams, and The Public and its Problems by John Dewey. Two books also rest on the right loop —  The Gospel of Wealth and Other Timely Essays, by Andrew Carnegie, and The Psychological Foundations of Education, by William Torrey Harris.”Granny, why do you have these books?” Libby asks. “There’s a reason,” answers Granny. Granny comes to the table and sits in a rocking chair. In each hand, she holds a tall glass of iced Postum with a metal straw. She hands one of the glasses to Libby. Simultaneously, Granny and Libby take a sip from the straw. The portrait of the mill is now gone. Where there was once brick, there is now a large glass window. Libby looks out the window and sees the Assabet Mill on the other side of the Assabet River.

“That mill is so sad and empty,” says Libby. Granny points out the window. “Look down there,” she says.  Libby looks. She sees a young woman leading a group of preschoolers down a sidewalk that threads between the other side of the river and the mill. “Maynard Knowledge Beginnings opened a Kindercare in building number four,” says Granny. From everywhere and nowhere, the song, Time Adventure, resonates into the GrannyLibby. Bubbles emerge from the Assabet River and drift towards the window. One of them hits the window. POP!  The sound of preschoolers playfully chattering bursts into GrannyLibby and dissipates. The window telescopes onto the preschoolers. Libby sees a little boy jumping up and down with excitement. He is pointing to where the Assabet flows from underneath the Main Street Bridge.

The window hones in on that spot. A chestnut otter swims out from underneath the bridge on his back. He uses his webbed pawclaws to hold a lavender flower to his chest. Chestnut backstrokes in the sinuous loops of the infinity symbol and cradles the lavender flower. The window telescopes onto Chestnut’s face. He turns towards Libby and winks. “Felix!” Libby gasps. The window telescopes onto Felix’s eyes, revealing that he has Lavender pupils. The window telescopes into Felix’s pupils. Libby blinks.

When she opens her eyes, she is standing in front of a lavender staircase. A single bubble drifts down the stairs. Inside the orb, Libby sees the cartoon characters Finn the Human and Jake the Dog. POP! The bubble burst, and the staircase pulses with the song Come Along with Me. Libby begins her ascent. As she does so, yellow-like spots emerge on the stairs and morph into small childlike footprints. Libby ascends with the footprints. As she does so, yellow footprints of all sizes emerge along with the childlike ones.

The staircase widens, and narrow bookshelves materialize on the sides of every stair. A solitary bubble drifts down between the bookshelves. Inside this orb, Libby sees Falkor, flying through the sky. The bubble burst, and the song The Neverending Story pulses through the staircase. Libby smiles and sings along. More bubbles drift down the stairwell. Libby glows as ideas pop into her head: “Felixmemorial! Family! Books! Whimsy!” POP! POP! POP! POP! Libby weaves thoughts. Felixsections: Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edward Gorey, Edgar Allan Poe.  POP! POP! POP! POP! From the been-not, loving voices speak out. “This store is such a reprieve.” “Mommy, look at this!” “When is your next poetry event?” “I love your section on Jane Addams and John Dewey!” 

Libby blinks… When she opens her eyes she is standing in front of the register. In front of her is a young woman and a little boy. In one hand, the woman holds a tote bag brimming with produce and specialty items from the farmer’s market. In the other hand, she is holding two books. “I love this store, she says, as she hands the two books to Libby. Libby scans the two books — beep beep. Twenty Years at the Hull House by Jane Addams, and The Public and its Problems by John Dewey blinks on to the screen. “Felix, give her your book.” The little boy hands a book to Libby. Libby scans the book. Beep. Felix the cat blinks onto the screen. Felix smiles. The woman smiles. Libby smiles.