Cypress Branches Literary Journal - Lamar State College-Orange

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Prose – Third Place Just Beyond the Door Tiffany Seigrist “Well, Grandma and Grandpa are gone,” she said to herself as sadness filled her empty heart. Steering the car into the gravel drive, she could hear the crunch beneath the tires as she came to a slow, lingering stop in front of the old home place. As she gazed at the lonely door, she asked herself, “Do I really want to face the emptiness beyond that door?” Their deaths, only thirteen months apart, had taken away the happiness she often felt when coming here. A gray cloud of anguish descended into the car’s interior, as if a violent storm approached without warning. What lay beyond the door? The opening of the door always delivered smiling grandchildren soon overtaken by the aroma of a fresh jelly cake, warm and dripping with strawberry jelly. Now, what would she find? Reaching for the cold handle of the car door, she lifted her weary head and remembered the words spoken at the gravesides, “They are in a better place.” The thought of Heaven brought a smile to her saddened face and a reminder of why she was here. This empty house which always brought a pleasant greeting was now hers. She, the granddaughter, was given the opportunity to purchase the old home place. Getting out of the car, she smoothed her skirt, though no one would greet her, and headed toward the door. The flowers that lined the porch stood at attention like soldiers, releasing a vibrant smell to welcome the new owner. The blooms sparkled with dew, a direct result of the care of their creator, the Master Gardener. Seeing the thriving flowers glistening in the sun, she remembered, He also would care for her. He would guide her gently through this phase of life. Reaching for the brass key, tarnished from years of use, she eased it ever so slowly into the awaiting lock. With a shaking hand, she turned the key and listened for the metallic click. She paused, tensing like a frightened deer preparing to flee at another snap of a twig. The creaking of the porch brought her back to her intention. She turned the knob. The door swung open with a whine of the hinges, a familiar greeting, bringing an ache to her heart. The room, once filled with sweet smells, now had a damp, musty reminder; it was unoccupied. “No,” she murmured, “This is a bad dream.” It was a dream from which she would never wake. As she stood in the foyer looking into the family room, she could imagine Grandma cradling a sleepy baby, rocking to the rhythm of Jesus Loves Me. In the corner sat the old wood-burning stove; the black metal finish felt like ice to her touch. She remembered Grandpa sitting in front of the stove with a mug of hot cocoa as he listened to the crackling of the fire. “Stop torturing yourself!” was the cry from her aching heart as she turned and walked toward the hall. “I do not want to go home with painful memories, I want to find something to keep that will offer comfort in the years to come,” she said aloud, trying to calm her pounding heart. Finding all the rooms empty of their contents, she resumed her search. Her footsteps echoed, resounding off the bare walls once laced with curtains and smiling photos of happy families. As she walked slowly down the hall, the floor boards creaked under her weight; she stopped abruptly. The door to the hall closet was open slightly, inviting her to partake in the mysterious unknown. Her heart leapt with anticipation; could treasures lie beyond the weathered, paint-flaked door? Surely not; the house had been thoroughly cleaned. Tugging the door open slightly, like a shy child entering her first day of kindergarten, she peered into the damp, dark interior. A box peered over the edge of the highest shelf. Could its contents bring the smile her sad countenance desired? She raised her trembling hands, and she tightly grasped the sides of the cardboard treasure. Lowering it slowly, her thoughts raced back in time, wondering if it was grandma’s wrinkled hands that had laid this box to rest. She carried her treasure carefully to the kitchen counter like a three year old girl cradling her precious doll. The kitchen no longer smelled of cakes baking in the oven but of mildew from the open, empty, 24
25 unplugged fridge. Ignoring the unpleasant odor, she unfolded the four cardboard flaps. Peering in, her eyes widened like saucers as she unveiled a photo album and several fragile Bibles. The aging album contained many pictures of her family in younger years, opening her mind to many precious memories. One photo revealed her and her deceased infant brother; it was like finding a chest of golden nuggets resting quietly at the bottom of the sea. The old family Bible, with tattered, golden-edged pages, contained a family tree dating back to the 1890’s. She reached into the box once more and curled her fingers around the brown, weathered leather of a small pocket-sized New Testament. She tenderly opened its yellowing pages. Her bewildered eyes fell on an inscription from The White House in Washington D.C. dated January 25, 1941. The letter said, “To the Armed Forces: As Commander-in-Chief I take pleasure in commanding the reading of the Bible to all who serve in the Armed Forces of the United <strong>State</strong>s. Throughout the centuries men of many faiths and diverse origins have found in the Sacred Book words of wisdom, council and inspiration. It is a fountain of strength and now, as always, an aid in attaining the highest aspirations of the human soul,” signed, “Very sincerely yours, Franklin D. Roosevelt.” Her heart skipped a beat as she imagined the reverence her Grandpa must have felt as he clutched this book to his chest, uncertain of the number of days war would provide for him to read it. As she leaned gently against the kitchen counter surveying her priceless find, she then realized the house was not empty after all. Memories danced around the barren walls like children playing in a flower-covered field. With excitement in her step, she resumed her search for more treasure. Behind an open door, held precariously on a rusting nail, she discovered a tattered certificate from World War II that was presented to her grandfather on September 15, 1945. Her chest felt as though it would burst, stuffed to its capacity with memories from years gone by. Were these items unwanted by those who had searched before? Or had these treasures been hidden, to be found by the one who would cherish them, as a shivering beggar would cherish an unstylish coat? She gathered her belongings with tender, cautious hands, gently lowering them back into the cardboard treasure box. As she walked slowly across the creaking floor, her mind drifted back in time. She caught a whiff of fresh jelly cake, and she faintly heard Grandma laugh with pride as the family gathered around the table to indulge in a slice. She smiled slowly, sending reassurance to her face that it would laugh once again. This home where she would soon raise her family was brimming with memories, bouncing off the plaster like a rubber ball driven with force. Noticing the time, she made her way to the foyer, only this time her steps were lighter. As the whining door closed once again, she walked down the creaking steps to her car. It sat silently, patiently awaiting her arrival to engulf her in arms of comfort. She opened the car door, slowly releasing a sigh. She had arrived with a heart so empty, like a dry water pail sitting on the desert sand, only to drive away with a heart so full, like a deep, blue ocean never knowing thirst. Meandering down the road, she smiled as she caught a glimpse in the mirror of the weathered, flaking door standing proudly upon the threshold. It seemed to bulge outward, doing its best to contain the millions of memories pressing against its back. The memories that engulfed her mind like a swarm of bees around a honeycomb danced merrily around the room just beyond the door. 25
Page 1 and 2: The Literary Journal of Lamar State
Page 3 and 4: 1 1
Page 5 and 6: 3 ART: Two Dimensional First Place
Page 7 and 8: 5 FACULTY AND STAFF CONTRIBUTIONS C
Page 9 and 10: 7 7
Page 11: 9 Two-Dimensional Art - First Place
Page 14 and 15: Two-Dimensional Art - Third Place A
Page 16 and 17: Three-Dimensional Art - First Place
Page 19 and 20: 17 Three-Dimensional Art - Third Pl
Page 21 and 22: 19 19
Page 23 and 24: 21 Prose - First Place Powering Dow
Page 25: 23 They then followed one another t
Page 29 and 30: 27 liking. Arrogance seeped from hi
Page 31: 29 29
Page 34 and 35: Photography - First Place Pikes Pla
Page 36 and 37: Photography - Third Place The Think
Page 39 and 40: 37 Poetry 37
Page 41 and 42: 39 Now that is all I notice The wor
Page 43 and 44: 41 These words are my paint. This p
Page 45 and 46: 43 Winners’ Biographies Amber Bur
Page 47: 45 Faculty and Staff 45
Page 51: 49 49
Page 54 and 55: Little Town Saints Randy Ford - Fac
Page 56 and 57: But tonight, right now, he is not l
Page 58 and 59: Clear and unobstructed Complex and
Page 60 and 61: My Army Eric Swanson - Student Work
Page 63 and 64: 61 Community 61
Page 65 and 66: 63 A Tranquil Wall George Millsap -
Page 67 and 68: 65 Dottie Warren Griffin -Community
Page 69: 67 67

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