The Tattered Bookmark

    Hello my family of readers. What a wonderful week. We have
   
more than 100 new readers with us tonight. My story "The

Happiest Day of My Life" appeared in "Mydailyinsights" and

"Asamanthinkest" last week. I now have more than 1000 readers.

It took me a year to get this far. I couldn't have done it without

you.

    Many of my new readers asked about my little girl in the
   
story "The Happiest Day of My Life." They wanted to know what

happened to her. Today's story tells the story. I hope you

enjoy it.

                    The Tattered Bookmark

    My newborn daughter, Vanessa, kicked her tiny foot against
   
my stomach and gave a weak cry. I adjusted her bottle. "There

you are, sweetie." She latched onto the nipple and stared at

me. I was in love with my three-week-old, little girl.

    Georgia, still recovering from giving me my first child,
   
walked up to me. "Happy, Father's Day!"  She smiled and handed

me an envelope. "Michael," she apologized. "I didn't have time

to shop. This is all I have for your first Father's Day. I

wish I could give you more."

    I looked at her. "Georgia, it's OK. You're still not well.
   
It's only been a couple of weeks." I looked at the gift in my

arms. "You gave me Vanessa. Could I ask for more?"

    She stared at me. A tear formed in the corner of her right
   
eye and began to trickle down her cheek. "I know, but this

is your first Father's Day. I wanted it to be special."

    "It is special." I replied and reached for her hand.
   
"Look at her!" I glanced at Vanessa. "This is the best Father's

Day gift." I turned back to Georgia, "Hun, this is the gift."

    I opened the envelope and pulled out a note. "Dear,
   
Michael." it began. I glanced at Georgia. The tear on her

cheek reflected the morning sun coming through the window

across the room. I turned and read the rest. "Happy Father's

Day! This is the moment wen dreamed about before we married.

We have our Vanessa. Now we have to plan for a Justin." She

signed it, "I Love You, Michael! You're going to be a great

daddy."

    I looked at her again, "Thank you, Georgia. I'll do my best."

    "There's more." she smiled.

    "What do you mean?"

    "In the envelope."

    I picked it up and opened it again. In the bottom was a
   
colorful piece of cloth. I pulled it out. It was a cloth

bookmark with vibrant bands of color. White fringes dangled

from each end. It reminded me of a Mexican serape. I draped

it over my hand and looked at Georgia. "I love it."

    "Michael." she said. "It's just a bookmark. I wanted
   
to get you more."

    "Georgia, I love it. It will always be special - my
   
first Father's Day gift."

    "I love you." she said.

    I sniffed the air. "Do you smell something?" I asked.

    "What?"

    I set the bookmark aside and changed my first diaper.

            *********************************

    On weekends, I did the midnight feedings. I sat and
   
read. The house was quiet. Through the baby monitor, I

heard Vanessa stirring. Her small cry crackled through the

speaker. I placed my Father's Day gift between the pages

of my book.

            *********************************

    I cradled Vanessa in my arm. I held her bottle with
   
one hand and my book with the other. Her tiny chin quivered

as she suckled. My gaze bounced from my book to her. The

bookmark was draped over my thigh.

            *********************************

    Justin was born. Vanessa, now three, slept in her very
   
first bed. I held my newborn son in my arms. The house

cracked as it contracted in the sub-zero temperatures

outside. The bookmark rested on the back of the sofa. Justin

snuggled against my chest.

            *********************************

    The job I held for fifteen years disappeared. Everyone

slept. I sat studying. I was back in school and stressed. When

I finished my studies, I picked up my book, opened it, and slipped

the bookmark into the pages ahead, marking things to come.

            *********************************

 
    I finally found a new job, but it was in a different city
   
 and province. I sat on my bed in a lonely room. Georgia,
 
 Vanessa, and Justin were in Nova Scotia. I rented a room

in a home in Saint John, New Brunswick. I tried to read, but

tears made the words blurry. I missed my wife and children.

I placed the bookmark between the pages, turned off the light,

and cried into my pillow. It would be a year before they

would be able to join me. The bookmark, its fringes frayed,

dangled from both ends of my book.

            *********************************

    Three years later, after another move, I sat on my deck
   
in Ohio. Justin stepped out. "Dad, wrestling is cool. I love

it."

    Vanessa, now sixteen, joined him, "Dad, they made me
   
second in clarinet!"

    I hugged them both. "Way to go, guys!"

    The kids went to their rooms. Steaks sizzled on the grill.
   
I pulled the bookmark from my book, placed it on the patio

table, and read. Life was good.

            *********************************

     "Hun, I'll get home when I can." I said to Georgia.
    
My job in Ohio was gone. I took an offer in New Jersey. We

decided she would stay in Ohio, so Vanessa could finish

her senior year of high school. Georgia and Justin would

join me in Jersey in ten months.

    I stood on the New Jersey side of the Hudson River.
   
Manhattan sparkled in front of me. Miles of buildings,

windows full of light, stretched out in both directions - a

dazzling display.

    Back in my apartment, I settled into bed, picked up
   
my book, and thought about the day my family could join me

and see the view. I pulled my bookmark from my book and placed

it on the covers beside me. It was worn after years of use.

I spoke to it. "We've been through a lot. We can get through

more."

    I dozed off in my new surroundings. The book rested
   
on my chest, rising and falling with each breath I took.

My bookmark lay beside me. I turned in my sleep. The bookmark

slid to the floor.

            *********************************

    Eleven months later, I sat in a chair reading. Georgia lay
   
on the sofa. She'd been in New Jersey for three weeks. My son slept

upstairs in his new bedroom. My daughter stayed in Ohio to

attend college. Georgia stirred and moaned - her organs failing.

While I was away, her liver failed and then her kidneys. I feared

her end was near.

    Her eyes opened. "Michael?"

    "I'm here, Hun."

    "I'm thirsty. Can you get me a drink?"

    I placed the worn bookmark between the pages. "What would
   
you like, Hun? Do you want juice?"

    She shook her head. "Is Vanessa home yet?"

    "Georgia, Vanessa is in Ohio. She's not here." I replied.

    "Oh! I forgot." she smiled weakly.

    I made her a cup of tea. She sipped it carefully as she
   
stared blankly at the television. The bookmark rested on my

thigh again. "Michael?"

    I looked up. "Yes?"

    "Is Vanessa home yet?" Georgia asked again.

    "She's still in Ohio, Hun."

    "Oh, right. I forgot." Her eyes closed. She drifted off
   
to sleep.

    I placed my bookmark between the pages, put my book down and
   
went to bed. Tears filled my eyes. I wished my wife could

climb the stairs to join me.

            *********************************

    The bookmark stretched across my stomach, I held my book in
   
front of me, not reading. On the television, a sitcom blared

unwatched. My friends had left. Justin slept in his room. Vanessa,

who came from Ohio, slept in the spare room. Georgia's ashes

rested in her urn on the credenza. My children were with me

again, but I was alone.

    I grabbed the bookmark, marked my spot, and carried my book
   
to my empty bed. "Lord, I don't want to be alone." I prayed. "I

want love in my life."

            *********************************

    The sun warmed my back. Ginny sat in the chair across the
   
patio table from me. Love was in my life again. I lifted the bookmark

from my lap, marked my page, stared at her, and said, "Ginny, I love

you."

    She looked up, put her book down, and smiled at me. "I love
   
you too."

    "I love you more." I smiled back. "Now back to our reading."

    We picked up our books and read. The bookmark rested on my lap.

            *********************************

    Ginny slept beside me on the sofa. I spread my bookmark across
   
her thigh and stared at it. The white fringes were long gone. There's

a spot where it must have torn. I don't remember when, but I can

see the loving stitches that hold it together. The whites are grey.

The bright bands of color are faded. It can't be washed. I fear it

will fall apart.

    I lifted it from Ginny's thigh and placed it between the pages
   
of my book. "Ginny?" I shook her shoulder.

    "Hmm? she moaned.

    I shook her again, "Ginny, time for bed, Hun."

    "Yes?"

    "Come on, Hun. Let's go to bed." I took her hand in mine.
   
"Come on, Hun."

    We climbed the stairs. I held her hand with one of mine.
   
    In my other, I carried my book. The tattered bookmark dangled
   
from each end.

    I sat up in bed. Ginny slept beside me. I pulled the bookmark
   
from my book and looked at it again. We'd been through a lot and

both showed our age. Like its tassels, my hair is mostly gone.

Its middle is folded in from years of being pressed together between

the pages of countless books. My middle folds out from years of

good food and not enough exercise.

    I've come to realize, it didn't just mark the pages of my
   
books, it marked the pages of my life.

    Michael T. Smith
   
   
    I love your comments and use a few with every post.
   
I also respond to everyone who emails me. I want to know

if I've touched your heart. You can email me at:

msmith4@nj.rr.com

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Now for some comments on my last story.

Thursday
22nd February 2006
 
Dear Mike
 
A very short note to say a big thank you for a great

story.  I really want to write a long letter but need

to do some lesson prep for tomorrow. You have no idea of

what your stories do to my spirits!  After some really

tough days in the classroom I come home to find these

amazing stories of wonderful people written by caring

authors like yourself.

Take care, give Ginny a special hug.

God Bless

Lesley S.
Loughborough
UK

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Great story, thanks for sharing!

Diana D

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