The Evolution of Life
an excerpt

Everyone has secrets, don’t we? This world is made up of secrets good and evil. And the secrets that make up Anne and her story, are no different. Like every one of us Anne comes from people with a history, after all, we all have history. There could be no future without the history that comes before it. It is history that lays the path for evolution and knowledge.

They say women can make a world, not of course without a little help from men, but Women...... Women have a special connection with all things living. They are the creators on this earth, the nests of life. What would become of our world if women could no longer support life? Total destruction of mankind. The world is nurtured and held in the loving arms of it’s women. The world’s empathy is generated through a mother’s need to nurture and protect her child.

As centuries passed and women became stronger and wiser, these women also became wiser and taught their daughters to read and write, but not in English. That would be dangerous had the men realized what was happening. Bad things could happen. This language they created, it was different than one any man had seen. They would simply think it was jibberish, child play or some mother daughter secret, nothing they should be concerned about. But this language was a way of communicating their craft, a way of teaching and keeping a record. A way to ensure that the craft continued to evolve.

A long time ago the tombstone was nearly destroyed. Thankfully it was retrieved, although badly crumbled. The ancient markings could still be understood. The interesting, what was amazing, is that each piece now seemed to have separate meaning. Together the message meant such a great deal, but each piece separate, holds a stronger message. Perhaps it is as simple as evolving with the times. With this evolution, the women began giving a piece of the ancient tombstone to their newborn daughters on their birth day. The grandmother always knows which piece to give to which child, the tombstone somehow makes it known. Like many other things these women come to Know, this is no different.

Anne was still very young when her grandmother explained to her how we get messages in our dreams when our spirit is trying to remember something, but our brain won’t let us. As so many of the women before her spoke, “Our mind and brain is capable of so much, if only we all knew how to use them. No experience is truly forgotten, it all stays with us you know. And we need it to stay with us, because it is our experience that give us a reference point for how we see the world. Each experience giving us a piece to a larger puzzle. When we need to remember something to solve a problem in life our spirit searches our mind for answers but normally in everyday life, we push the memories away because we are busy trying to do or think of other stuff... we see it as just daydreamin’... going off into the clouds. Maybe people think the problems will just work themselves out in time and they don’t make the connection. But I believe that is what our real purpose is, to figure out why we are here, to search within ourselves for the answers. And part of that is the messages sent to our spirit by the universe. The only time we are open to receive without consciously trying to block the messages is in our dreams.”

Anne first discovered her enhanced empathy while cleaning out the attic for her grandmother, with her mother and grandmother in tow. She was not a particularly fearful child, therefore there was nothing holding her back as she swung to and fro with the stick, watching the feather light thread fly through the air. Then suddenly she noticed all of these multi legged spiders in a frenzy to find a safe place to mend their home. Anne took a few steps back to observe the scene. She noticed this huge fortress they had created, and was amazed at the neighborly way of the spiders. They were actually allowing each other to live at a certain distance.

Once again watching the pieces fall from the broken down home, Anne’s heart began to break; she realized what she had done. Unknowingly she had destroyed the only home these creatures had ever known, and now they would most likely die.

The older women, already having sensed Anne’s anguish, had been allowing her to simply travel the realization, but now realized themselves that it was time to explain a few things. When she turned around to face them, Anne had not expression left, her face covered in tears. She threw herself into the arms of her mother, as her grandmother stroked her hair. “Anna Rose, what are you feeling right now?” “Oh Nana, it’s horrible!!!” She mumbled into her mothers shoulder. “I killed all those spiders just because we want a clean attic!”

“Oh, but you didn’t kill them love,” her mother interjected. “That is for nature to determine. If those spiders are industrious enough, if they are strong enough, they can and will survive. That depends on them.” With that Anne sat up and cleared her eyes, she was already beginning to understand, although she knew there was still more to understand. “But, I’m the one who destroyed it’s habitat...”

*Her grandmother directed her to sit next to her, and she began explaining the nature of cause and effect and personal responsibility. She tried to help Anne comprehend survival of the fittest. (Anne immediately taking note to read up on Darwinism.)

The women and young girl continued their chore of dusting and rearranging spiders carefully placed webs. Once the coughing and wheezing was over the set to the task of organizing items that haven’t been looked at since before young Anne was even born. There are items here that don’t even belong to them, (although technically they do, because the house was theirs, including everything in it), they belonged to the legacy of another family entirely. Anne grew excited with anticipation at the thought of unveiling a great mystery among the long abandoned possessions. A great mystery which belonged to someone else, which left her feeling somewhat invasive, but her childish sense of entitlement grew much stronger and defeated the invasion.

Pushing her curiosity aside for a moment, Anne obeyed her grandmothers command to open a small trunk at her feet. It was full of journals, some very old. So many different designs and sizes, there must have been nearly a hundred of them. “Oh, you’ve found a lucky one there!” Cecelia exclaimed while secretly looking at her daughter. She winked, the pleasure visible on her face and in her eyes, “that is the tomb of inner thoughts, the tomb where we keep all of our most secret thoughts and ideas that we are beholden to write down on paper.”

Anne had been looking through these notebooks, observing each one in amazement, “who wrote all these?” “Many women have, go ahead take a look. They are as much yours as they are ours little one.” Cecelia responded softly as her daughter looked up at her with the innocent face of an angel discovering earth for the very first time. She left her granddaughter to it while she helped her daughter move a beautiful antique grandfather clock. It was stained cherry oak with not a mark on it. Josephine thought how amazing it was that it had defeated the tests of time. It looked the same as it did that very first time she saw it and this house, so long ago.

Josephine was just ten years old, going on eleven, and boisterous with a brand new hair cut she had done herself. She felt so small in this enormous space. It was cold and felt empty although she could see all of this wonderful furniture all around her. Everywhere, pushed right up against the walls, there were chairs and sofas and little tables. Some was covered with cloth, some had been uncovered. Right there in front of her, like a tall soldier; his arms swinging as he marched. Tick, Tick, Tick, the perfect beat she thought. She followed the vertical lines from just below her knees up, up until her neck hurt. She took a few steps back, only to realize that it reached from the floor to the ceiling. She had never seen such a thing. This enormous clock with legs that dangled and rocked back and forth in time.

“Nana Cece, why don’t any of the journals talk about the men of the family?” Anne asked while curiously flipping through the dusty pages; interrupting Anne’s thoughts of reminiscence.

“The men have served their purpose.” Cecelia stated clearly, giving the elderly soldier one last nudge into place.

“Mamma!” Josephine tried to hush the old lady.

Anne piped up, ignoring her mothers apparent discomfort, “But mum and I talk about my father all the time. I know she writes about him in her journal and I always do in mine. And he is in these videos,” Anne picks up one of the video tapes of her family enjoying their short time together, that they were adding to the Memory Vessel.

They all look at each other simultaneously. Jo smiles ever so slightly, but with a deep pain that Anne is not yet able to understand.

“Ah, but your dad....,” Cecelia smiles at her daughter and places her hand gently on her shoulder, “your dad was special.” She continues adjusting her gaze in Anne’s direction, “ I believe that man would have saved the world given the chance.” She sat down next to Anne. “ We were blessed to have him in our lives.” She smiles at her daughter, reassuring her to be strong. “ You know, maybe he was given to us so you could be born Anna.” Her voice warms with enthusiasm as she looks from her daughter back to her granddaughter. She hugs her tightly before getting back up to continue with her chores.

“What about your husband nana, my grandfather? What was he like?” Anne’s curiosity knows no bounds.

The smiles quickly dispersed from Cecelia and Josephine’s faces. “Well unfortunately they don’t all come as good as your father,” her grandmother answers without hesitation.

Josephine tried to deflect the question by asking Anne to get some of the lemonade they prepared beforehand, from the fridge. But her mother spoke up, “no, Jo, the girl asked, she deserves to know the truth.” Anne sat back down as her grandmother directed her attention to her. “ Your grandfather was a cheat, and I was his mistress. Only I didn’t know I was a mistress until I met his wife.” Cecelia sat down, as that familiar hurt took over her heart. The only man she had and will ever love. She took a deep breath and braced herself as she began a journey she hoped she would never have to take again. She must explain that moment that her world was knocked to smithereens. “We had been courting for some time. I was on my own, and doing well. I had confidence in my independence; I knew that I could make good choices for myself. So when this handsome man came calling, I didn’t see any reason not to trust him. After some time, I found myself pregnant. I was quite pleased, it didn’t bother me a wink that we weren’t married yet, what could be better than having our children involved in our joining as husband and wife.” She winked at her granddaughter, “I was quite modern back then.” Everyone laughs as she continues, “So I decided to surprise him at work and tell him the great news. There I was dressed to the nines, glowing with excitement, just letting myself into his office while his secretary was insisting ‘no, no, he’s busy right now’,” Cecelia chuckles a hearty laugh, “and there he is having lunch with his wife. I probably wouldn’t have even thought much of it in the beginning had he not been in the middle of stuffing some sort of raw fish into her mouth.” Anne looks at both of them in shock. Josephine shrugs off a laugh and shakes her head in confirmation, while motioning to Anne to keep listening.

“Of course I immediately demanded to know who this woman was,” Cecelia continued, “and quite properly the wife stood straight up and said,” (while throwing her hands in the air before imitating the woman) “‘I’m his wife!’ Well, I just about choked on the air in that moment. I believe we all stood there in silence for several minutes before his secretary finally closed the office door, leaving the three of us in there alone. I didn’t know what to say, there was nothing else I could say, except ‘I’m pregnant’. I had assumed that the wife already assumed that I was her husband’s girlfriend. I mean, who else would walk in demanding to know who this other broad was.” She takes a breath and a moment of silence, as Anne tries to take in all she has heard.

Josephine rubs Anne’s back as a mother would with a sick child, “are you ok sweetie?”

Anne must have appeared stunned, which she certainly was. She has never heard any of this before. Tears came to her eyes as she asked, wondering what it means to have this man as her grandfather, and what it meant for her mother to have this man as a father, “Well, what did he do then nana?”

“Well,” she spoke softly to ease her granddaughters worry, which was quite visible, “I turned to his wife, and standing straight up with all my pride, I told her that I was sorry. She was crying at this point and looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘My poor dear, it is obvious that you didn’t know. I AM sorry, that we didn’t discover this man for what he is, before you were left with the consequences. I guess it is fortunate for me that we have not been able to have children,...’ suddenly a look of horror came on her face as she stared into dead air, ‘ unless you realize that apparently I am the reason we couldn’t have children in the first place.’. My heart broke as I watched this poor woman clutch the desk for support as the truth came over her; she was sterile, unable to have children. And with all their efforts to figure it out, the answer comes in the form of another woman’s fertility, as she finds out that her beloved husband has been cheating on her the entire time.” Cecelia takes a moment to wipe her tears and blow her nose while the girls gather around the elderly woman. “Jo’s father tried to comfort his wife, as I just stood there dumbfounded. He called her by her name, Grace, and tried to put his arm around her, but that woman was not having any of it! She pushed him away and walked out of the office and his life forever. We stood there staring at each other for several seconds before I knew what I had to do.” Cecelia stood up as if she were going to reenact the scene, “ I will name her Josephine Grace, I told him. That’s the last thing I ever said to him.”

“I left him standing there, and I never saw him again. Of course I always updated his office as to our whereabouts, and he sent money. I sent pictures but he never tried to see his daughter, I think he just wasn’t able to face her and me. How could he explain what he had done? There is no explanation. I eventually heard that he developed Alzheimer’s Disease, he must have had it that entire time, showing symptoms I mean, although I don’t know that I noticed, sometimes I try to think back maybe there was some sign, but what we had was such a whirlwind romance. It was all up, never any downs. Maybe he knew, maybe that is why he did what he did, maybe that is why he wanted an heir, or maybe he needed to feel something he hadn’t felt before the illness took over his life. I will never know.” Cecelia seemed to lose a part of herself in admitting that painful fact. She knew that by walking out on him and never seeing him again she would never be able to see into his soul to find the Truth she is searching for. “With that news,” she continued, “I received a copy of his last testament. The poor man left everything to your mother; his namesake, and as far as I’ve been able to gather; his only child.” Upon finishing her sentence, Cecelia walked over to the other side of the attic and retrieved a photo album that her granddaughter had never seen before. It was old and tattered, it seemed even older than she was.

As she sat down and opened the album Cecelia continued to speak, “Apparently, Josef was never able to really move on after realizing how he had affected all of our lives. Maybe he wasn’t such a horrible man, maybe he made a mistake as they say.” They looked over page after page of black and white photos of the courtship, and newspaper clippings of his accomplishments over the years. “He never remarried and never had any other children. There were no other beneficiaries, just Josephine. That’s where this house comes from!” She pointed to the ceiling, prompting young to look around the attic as if taking it all in at once; the story, her heritage, her grandmother. She came back to the photo album to discover two photos side by side, she looked at her grandmother who simply smiled back at her as she looked up at her daughter. “Mum it’s you,” she blurted out in amazement, “and that’s your dad? Wow, mum you look exactly like him!” They all laughed at her astonishment. “That’s why you don’t look anything like nana.”

“Mum, do I look like papa?” Anne interrupted their moment of amusement with invasive questions once again. Something of a talent for this child.

Josephine brushed her daughters hair with her long slender fingers, “well, word around here is that you are growin’ up to look just like your nana.......” Anne contemplates the idea and then replies, “well, I guess that’s not so bad.” All three generations erupt in laughter.

It has been a long morning, reminiscing and educating. Josephine suggests lunch and lemonade, which prompts Anne to fly down the ladder as if she had wings. Josephine follows her daughter, giving her mother a moment with her thoughts.

Cecelia looks around the room filled with memories. She looks down at the photo album in her hand, and wonders for the thousandth time, for an answer. She finds some solace in that they were both unable to move on from each other. Somehow the idea that they were both unhappy gave her some sort of relief. She wondered if it was her he missed, or his wife. Who had broken his heart more? Suddenly she snaps back to reality and wonders why she still asks herself these questions. Only years from her death, and she still questions the past. Her senses tell her that there is still something untold in this situation. She can feel his life still in human form, he is still alive. Instantly she knows that she must see him. After all these years, before her time is done, she must see him.

As soon as Cecelia made it down that wobbly little latter, Josephine could feel that something had changed. “Mama, you ok up there?”

“Oh I’m just fine Jo dear, but I’ve got great news... I’m comin’ down now.” She just finished the sentence before rounding the corner into the kitchen to have a seat on a stool, at the island where Anne had already made a few bites into her veggie wrap.

Josephine was staring at her mother the entire time, “so? The news?”

“Oh yes, I’m going to see your father.” She said nonchalantly, while congratulating Anne for eating so well.

Jo’s jaw dropped along with the butter knife which made a loud cling as it bounced like a slinky from the plate to the counter, down to the ceramic tile. She doesn’t even try to pick it up, instead she just plays with the crumbs on the counter top. Suddenly she feels 5 years old again, asking why she doesn’t have a daddy. She never had much interest in seeing her father, mostly because her mom took care of everything that she couldn’t teach her to do for herself. There was never much need for him. A certain curiosity yes, but not much of a need. “Sh...sh..should...”, her speech obviously impaired from shock, as a thousand thoughts race through her mind, some thoughts linking with others and becoming epiphanies. “Should I go with you?” She finally manages to blurt out.

“That remains to be seen my love. Here,” she directs Josephine to sit on the stool next to her, “have something to eat.”

They all ate lunch together quietly, enjoying every bite. They all knew that their time together was limited. Their morning discoveries set in motion a very revealing energy. They could each feel it.