Doves circled around
their little house, crooning the tune over and over for the family, all
creating harmony and all the while healing. The birds continued to sing until
the family at last retired for the night. The little doves had done their job.
They had comforted two loving parents and a caring sister, and with that flew
away.
When the family
woke up in the morning, the house’s oppressive feeling had vanished and the
feeling of happiness had overcome everyone. Lillian even sang a song while
cleaning, David tended to his garden, and their little girl was able to see her
parents happy again. For her, that was all that ever mattered.
After that
night, the family never once mourned again the loss of dear Eliza. Of course
they were sad and missed her on special occasions. However, instead of weeping
and despairing as they did before, they celebrated and reminisced about their
little Eliza and the life she had lived.
As the little
girl grew up, she made sure to write her feelings down in a diary, good or bad,
new or old. She especially wrote the occurrences of that night in her diary. To
this day, the diary still exists. You see, this diary was passed down to each
generation, and no one did anything with it. That is, however, until I received
it from my grandmother. She told me to keep it safe and make sure to read it
every day, and I do. I wake up and read an excerpt from the diary. Today
though, I read an entry that I was very intrigued by. I was so intrigued in
fact, I thought I had to write a story on what actually happened that night, as
well as the days leading up to it. Here is the excerpt that compelled me to
write this story:
“I still
remember the day it happened; everything went so terribly wrong that afternoon!
I broke mama’s heart, and shattered my own.
Both mother and
I wept all afternoon, and I don’t think either of us realized that father had
come home. I still didn’t until I banged on Eliza’s door and he came running
out to see what was wrong. If I hadn’t heard that strange sound, maybe things
would still be the same way they were earlier that day.
I can still
remember father’s face when he broke the door down and saw all the doves in the
room surrounding Eliza’s last picture. He seemed so tranquil, as if he knew,
like we all do, that Eliza was safe and in God’s hands. Then, when all the
doves were singing the tune that was Eliza’s favourite song everything felt
like a dream!
Sometimes, I
worry that it was all a dream, and that we aren’t really happy again. Sometimes
I wonder why the doves saved our family that night. I wonder how it all
happened. It’s just a huge mystery. Mother and I often talk about that day,
laughing at our dramatic argument, crying over our grief. We converse for
hours, remembering all the little details like Eliza’s smashed picture, the
doves surrounding it and the melody, that still remains in our hearts to this
day, that was sung. The only thing is I remember closing the window each time I
left Eliza’s room. I wouldn’t have otherwise, except that if the window was
left open and the bedroom door was closed, the door would jam. So I only have
one question? If I didn’t open the window, who did? ”
I’ve
reread the diary multiple times throughout my time of owning it. It’s just as
magical as the first time, but it becomes more mysterious. Throughout her
entries, I’ve noted that she lists each and every time she opens and closes the
window. So logic would tell me that when the special dove entered her sisters’
room the window should have been shut. I’ve also asked others what they think.
Most respond with, “It all started when someone opened the bedroom
window.” And I agree with them, but who
was it that opened the window in the third floor bedroom?
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