Home ~ Literature/Story ~ Epiphany Alternate Ending

     For about a year I moved from here to there, my body having suddenly transformed into a package, carrying only unneeded knowledge and unwanted wisdom. Eventually my family gave up on me and stuffed me back into my house about a day ago. They suddenly weren’t my family anymore, just some old acquaintances I once knew way back when. My oldest son had come over to visit one day to check up on me. He was such a dear, indeed he still is. He brought over this electronic device, which he and his brother were going to install so he was positive that I’d be ok living by myself. He stayed for a few hours to talk and enjoy some pie before leaving. He had work in the morning and he had to drive a great distance to get home. I understood as I watched him leave. To date, that was the last I saw of his handsome face.

     The next day, today, I went out to the market, the severe lack of assistance and communication from my family actually giving me good reason to get out of my house unlike those other bed bound granny’s. I stopped at Charlie’s, my favorite fruit stand. Oh his fruit was so fresh, ripe, and juicy and never had any of those pesky chemicals on them, just homegrown fruit. Oh and Charlie was the kindest man. His son, Charles, was beyond that of a gentleman. But getting back to my trip, I had stopped there for some fruit, not particularly having any special preferences since I was pretty bored and just felt like baking something to get my mind off of the abandonment which my family dressed me in and to keep my lone swollen tears back from running down my cheeks onto my blouse. I was tired of apple and blueberry so I figured I’d try something new and exciting. As if my children still lived at home with me, or their children were visiting for the weekend and desired something sweet yet new and electrifying. I had picked out some kiwi, strawberries, banana’s and one lemon to help not only add a bit of zap to the pastry, but also to help keep the fruits from withering away and loosing their vibrant colors.

     After paying my money, Charles, the dear who was working there that day, had taken the price of the fruit down for me. I then went to the grocery store for some more flour, sugar and other ingredients since I had run out when my “old acquaintances” decided to move me around. I went back home and decided that a crust topping would be best for the pie so I washed the fruit, pealed and sliced the kiwi and banana and put all of the fruit in separate bowls. Well I’m positive you don’t want to hear me explaining the recipe so if you want it then we’ll discuss that at a later time. I realized that I was out of orange juice, which I tend to put into my pastries, so I went back out to the store. On my way through the isles I came across a little boy weeping tears of fear, confusion and anguish. I couldn’t help but notice that he was completely alone. It was relatively late, around four, closing time for the market. I remember kneeling by the boy and asking him why he was all alone and him responding by simply looking at me with large, tear swollen eyes like a puppy locked up in a shelter, begging the passer byes to take him home before the shelter got the best of him.

     He continued to just stare at me, silently as I asked him some questions such as where his parents where and what his name was. Just to generally get some information about him. After about a minute or two of silence, I decided I’d go and get my juice then come back and if he were still sitting there then I’d take him home with me. When I arrived at the juice isle, my favorite brand for cooking was gone so I grabbed the supposed “pulp less” home made brand, which I didn’t trust as being completely pulp less. As I turned to return to the other isle, I noticed the boy was no longer sitting in the middle of the isle crying. Since I thought he found his parents and went home, I decided to go buy my juice and finish my pastry. I failed to notice the young boy was following me.

     Well when I arrived home and added the orange juice to the mixture and molded the dough all together and into a pan I turned around and spotted the young boy outside my window watching me. I told him to go to the front door where I let him in, shivering and dirty. I handed him a towel to sit on, on top of one of my soft armchairs, and a thick, warm blanket to wrap around himself. I then, ignoring my setting pie, mixed him up some nice, thick hot chocolate and handed him some marshmallows in case he liked his hot chocolate with marshmallows like so many other children these days do. I sat and watched him sip at the drink, his eyes locked on me yet with interest instead of fear.

     It didn’t take long for the young child to begin to feel safe and even less time for me to earn the boy’s trust. After awhile he finally spoke to me and told me what had happened. He told me how his mother brought him to the store and told him to sit down and stay put, when he had asked why she was going, she simply ran away saying he was too young to understand. He told me that he decided to follow me home because he was told by another, older child that old people are nice and give out food to hungry boys. I couldn’t help but to laugh at the child’s gathered information on old people.

     We conversed for a while until I was finally able to gather the conclusion that the boy had been completely abandoned.

     So now here we are, enjoying a nice warm pie and you with some hot chocolate my dear boy. It appears that now we both have someone to care for.

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