The Sound of History
Chuck took the steps up to his son’s house slowly, one foot following the other and resting a moment before taking the next. He stopped at the top step and turned around to feel the cold winter breeze in his face. He took a deep breath in through his nose and out his mouth. The bright sunlight reflecting off the snow on the ground made him squint, then finally shut his eyes, and he concentrated on the wind passing over face and through the gap between his collar and his scarf. Chuck was standing before the door to his son’s house, but in his mind’s eye he was racing down lane to his old farmstead, tearing across the meadows with his favorite horse, Glamorous Glennis. He looked forward to nothing else more than urging Glen forward, faster and faster, as the ground beneath their feet was little more than a blur. The wind picked up, and he lifted one slightly trembling, thin skinned hand, bunching together his scarf and collar to keep out the cold and stay outside just a little longer.
“Mr. Yeager, are you are alright?” asked a pleasant female voice. Startled, Chuck’s hand dropped and his eyes opened, the wind once again cutting through his coat and his vision focusing on the middle aged woman standing below him on the sidewalk. It was Harriet Welch, his son’s next door neighbor.
“Why yes, thank you. I’m fine” Chuck answered, after a moment’s hesitation. “Just thinking, that’s all.” His hand crept back to and closed off his collar again. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well, thank you.” She too was bundled up against the cold, the air bringing out a red shade to her cheeks. “It’s nice to see you visiting again,” she smiled. “I hate to run, but I’ve got to start supper soon. Have a Merry Christmas! Say hello to John, Sue and the kids for me!”
“I will, ma’am. A Merry Christmas to you too, Mrs. Welch” Chuck answered, and as she crunched through the snow to her house, he turned and knocked on the door of his son’s.
It was after supper, a fine meal of pork and sauerkraut, and the family was sitting in the living room in front of the low burning fireplace, the embers a fiercely fading orange. Susan took away their empty coffee cups, while Chuck and his son John sat before the fire. Peggy and John Junior. sat on the floor at the feet of their grandfather.
“Are you going to be here on Christmas day, Grandpa?” asked Peggy.
Chuck smiled and nodded his head. “Yes, of course I will. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“Grandpa, did you hear about the flying men?” John Junior chimed in.
“Who, the what?” asked the old man.
“You haven’t heard about that yet?” John broke in with his deep voice. “Johnny, get the newspaper from the end table in the hall.” The child raced out of the living room, eager to please. “Most amazing thing I’ve ever heard Dad” John said, shifting to a more comfortable spot in his chair. “They say two brothers down in North Carolina built a flying machine.” The grandchild ran back into the living room, handing the paper to his father. Leaning close in the dim light, John read. “On December 17, 1903, in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, Orville and Wilbur Wright flew a heavier than air machine for the first time in human history. Orville Wright traveled 120 feet in about twelve seconds.” John looked up from the paper. “Did you ever think that would even be possible?”
Chuck closed his eyes again and leaned back in his seat. Even sitting in front of the fireplace in the dim living room, when he closed his eyes he could feel the wind against his feet as he raced through the meadow of his youth and Glennis strained to faster. The grass beneath their feet swept by faster and faster, until they lifted off the earth itself until the clouds were within Chuck’s reach.
“Imagine that” said the old man.