I looked up from the letter at a touch, her touch. My eyes cleared and I saw a few more smudges added to the ones made by the tears in the same way years ago – the only other time I’ve read that letter.
Eve touched my shoulder with the same tenderness she carried with her in all ways. Her other hand came up and wiped the tear from my cheek – producing a clean spot that looked out of place. The last tear that fell, she wiped away all the tears. There’ve been days I spent sobbing like a babe at just the sight of the wooden box. But Eve wiped away all the tears in that one gesture of kindness.
I sniffed my nose and I think I blushed. Sitting up straight, I methodically put the letter back in the old envelope. I picked up the blue ribbon, the one that held my Ruthie’s hair back off her face in the end there. Right up to the end, she wore that ribbon in her hair. I sniffed my nose back again and Eve inclined her head. Automatically, I tied that ribbon with the frayed ends around her baby fine blonde hair, just as I had my Ruthie’s a hundred times – no, a thousand – times before.
“Well,” I let the deep breath I’d been holding out and Eve lowered her hand from my shoulder. “We better get ready,” I said. My feet shuffled, “Did, uh, did you get enough sleep?”
She shook her head slowly up then down. I looked down to finish putting the letter away and… it was gone. I panicked, probably only for a half second, yet it was there, the moment everything inside you seizes up. Before the whole second was done I spotted the corner of one of the folds from the old envelope sticking up out of the wooden box.
Though the journey ahead of us, the one we must make, was daunting for sure, I felt at peace. All of my belongings were back where they should be and the pack seemed lighter still. I did have to leave the big pot I used for stew, that thing (useful as it was) just added too much weight.
The pack hefted on my shoulder I turned to look out at the plagued sky. Eve stood in front of me with a hand on my bag. Her head shook and when I just stood there looking back at her she said, “Not all of it.”
I had to lean forward, her mouth next to my good ear, the right one.
“Not all of it,” she said again. Her voice so gentle I had to strain to hear.
But I did hear what she said and I knew. Her hand came off my pack as it slipped off my shoulder. I opened the bag the entire length of the zipper and started removing things from inside. Clothes were the first to go and then the crude utensils and tools.
I remember it now and I wonder where the hesitation was in my actions. The second thought never occurred to me. What I was doing, needed doing. And then the last two remaining items, I looked to my right, directly into Eve’s blue eyes, my hands on the things in the bag.
In my periphery, I saw that Eve smiled. A big smile that lifted her cheeks, showed her teeth and covered her face. And I knew they were okay, the last two things: my good belt – instead of the hank of rope around my waist, and the box. The box I wouldn’t give up, and Eve was smiling and I knew.
I smiled down at my things, then up at Eve. I looped the belt around the box crossways to hold it closed. I cinched the belt tight around the box and stood. When I looked back towards the opening of my home – no, the cave that used to be home – Eve had her back turned. I put my free arm around her shoulders and we stood there looking out at the desolate expanse. We looked out, not at the valley before us, at the entire sight. We looked all the way to the horizon.
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