Meeting Abigail Benson Part 5

CRASH!!!!!

The horrifying sound woke Abigail from a dead sleep. Her heart pounding, her head still hazy with pleasant dreams of the spring to come, she bolted upright. Trying to make sense of what had just happened, she wiped the sleep from her eyes.

The offensive light of the day invaded the slits of her sleepy eyelids.

THUMP-A-DA! THUMP-A-DA! THUMPA-DA!

The sound of cats galloping filled the house.

Cursing her beloved cats, she pulled her stiff body out of bed. It was light out, so they had let her sleep in a little and for that she was grateful.

“Come on legs,” she whispered, looking down as she attempted to descend the staircase, “we can do this.”

Her mischievous tabby cats had found their way back to the tree of treasures. She heard the bells lose the magic in their jingle as they hit the floor.
Thankfully, she had the good sense not to put the glass ornaments on the tree.

Smoke and Mirrors were not to be trusted. She knew better. This fiasco was worthwhile, she thought. Abigail spent a moment recalling the comfort the tree had brought her.

Slipping into a daydream, she imagined she would hang the tree from the ceiling. Maybe she would crazy glue the ornaments on. That would do it. She thought to herself with a giggle.

The smell of New Year’s breakfast filled her lonely home with the memory of her mother. Her mother had passed away six years ago. Leaving her alone on a misty island. Far away from the real world, with nothing but a slightly ornery black pony to keep her on her toes.

She and her mother had moved to Haida Gwaii 20 years ago to escape the pressures of a fast-paced life. It had been great. Until Mom got breast cancer. Abigail tried not to think about it. The last few months of her life are torturous memories she would sooner have erased.

They shared the large house and their love of horses. When Mary, Abigail’s mom, had grown too old to ride, she took up driving. Magic was her second driving pony and by far her favorite. His mischievous habits made her laugh daily.

Mary believed you should surround yourself with things that make you laugh. “Laughter keeps you young,” she would say to Abigail.

Together they would tour the island laughing. Abigail with her large white horse. Mary with her small black pony. They lived and laughed. Enjoying a simple, happy life. A life that Abigail missed every day.

Now she was alone with the scent of memories. They floated around her as she contemplated whether to pack up the tree for the year or set it back up again.

Neither sounded like a good idea. At this point, she decided she would just leave it for a while yet.

Instead, she thought that she would pull out the bells. Driving around the neighborhood with a jiggle-bell pony sounded much more fun.

She would take him out in honor of Mary. The tree could wait.