It's A Wonderful Life

It’s a cold Saturday evening, I’d say cool, but cold had it not been for this warm woolen jacket that I’m wearing.The room smells of vanilla, while ‘It’s a wonderful life’ is playing on the television. I can’t seem to remember the sources of both the fragrance and the film. How is the movie even on television? Hadn’t I just watched it in a theatre, the day before?  As I make a futile attempt to join pieces of my memory, somebody knocks on the door. I walk to the door, switching the television off, but find myself staring at the doorknob instead. Knock. Then, I quietly open the door. I find a man in haggard attire, maybe in his late forties, standing outside, with some magazines and a laptop in his hands and a badge, saying ‘VISITOR’ around his neck.

He cheerfully smiles at me and the expression on his face clearly demands one in return.

“May I know who you are?” I ask courteously.

“I’ve got some stories for you.” He replies, without the slightest offence taken and casually finds his way through the door.

“But…”I trail on and as I turn, the strangest of incidents occurs, I find my son sitting on the couch. “When did you come?”

“Well, I just…” His eyes utter a certain query and perplexity, which is then quickly concealed by his smile and then the eyes too follow fashion.

And as the clock ticked on - quietly interrupting the rhythm of our conversation - we spoke. He read a beautiful WWI story to me, or was it about the civil war? And then he went on to talk about how the taste of coffee was vanquished by sugar, while my mind silently drifted off into memories of my childhood. I’d reminisce over the vividly green fields owned by my father, the squeaking noise made by the stairs of our old house, but mainly of Mary, and how she always smelt of vanilla and chamomile.

“Father, it is time for me to leave.” said peter, with a fervent expression, cautiously verbalizing each word, waiting for me to gauge some deeply veiled meaning of that statement.

“That’s fine son.” This seems to pacify him “But...” And the expression returns, as if it had anticipated its immediate recall. “But, why are you wearing that ridiculous ID around your own house? Did Mary invent some new ritual?”

He remains silent for a while, the clock suddenly seeming louder than ever.

“No, mother hasn’t...no. It has been here since my meeting with that client from Australia.” And then he turns around and swiftly walks away.

As Peter was walking away, I saw Frank walk my way.

He was dressed in a neat brown shirt and gray trousers, and he too had an ID, with his name on it. When he came close, I realized that he had been to the library, he almost smelt of books.

“Hey Frank! Did you see my son, Robert leave?”

“You mean Peter?”

“That’s what I said.”

Why was today spiraling down to such complexity and confusion? First that man, then Peter and now Frank. I should sit inside and wait for Mary to come; she would make it all clear.

It has been over an hour since Peter left and Mary hasn’t arrived yet.

I’m still watching ‘It’s a wonderful life’ and start thinking of Mary and how breath-takingly beautiful she looked on the previous night. We had watched the movie at Regal and then walked down two blocks, to savor her favorite ice-cream, roasted almonds. That was the day I knew everything would be alright, if I had her by my side.

Click. There’s a sudden sound of the door opening. I look up; the credits of the movie are on. I must have fallen asleep.

“How was your day, dear?” she asks peacefully, with an air of deep seated concern in her voice.

“It was fine, but I met a stranger, a familiar looking stranger.”

“Oh! It must have been Peter; you never seem to remember him. I’ve told you so many times, check the right hand drawer in your cabinet, everything will be clear.”

I smiled at the sudden memory of the previous night, the taste of roasted almonds ice-cream, almost reached my mouth.

I went to the cabinet. Opened the drawer. There were images, labeled images of family, friends, and doctors. There were souvenirs from trips around the world. A few documents related to Alzheimer’s disease were scattered around. 

“Honey, you should sleep now, it’s late.”

I dug deep into the drawer full of skeletons of my past, only to find two tiny pieces of cardboard. ‘Admit one’ each said, and the other side had ‘It’s a wonderful life’ 1946, printed on it. How could tickets of yesterday’s film, seem so old?

“Mary, what’s the date today?”

“It’s the fifth of July, dear.”

“No, I mean the year; what year is it?”

“2012”

I kept the tickets back where they were, shut the drawer and silently sat next to Mary, the only figment of my memories that had lived on, over those long forgotten days and meaningless nights. And to my surprise, she said, “Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?” Though I couldn't exactly recollect our memory related to that quote, I just said, “Yes” And she did smile. 

*The quote in the last paragraph is taken from the movie 'It's A Wonderful Life'.