Walking into the Arms of God

Rosemary Milliscent lived in a small, cozy, little town nestled right in the shadow of the towering mountain that the village was named after. Every day at the peak of the sun’s daily rotation, the shadow of Hitkin Moutain, or as the villagers liked to call it Two-Faced Mountain, would cast itself long and dark over the sleepy little town that it protected. Half of the mountain’s face was covered in the dark green leaves of tree tops that were so dense that no light could penetrate them; therefore no other life could live on the ground there, except for the birds that flourished. The other half of the mountain was covered in cold, cruel sheets of gray rock that steeply jutted up from the ground and culminated at the sharp peak. The Two-Faced Mountain truly was a sight to see from one’s bedroom window every morning upon waking up, and Rosemary was one of the hundred and fifteen people who lived in Hitkin Village who had this opportunity. Yet for some reason she was not happy. Although she was surrounded by the most beautiful scenes nature had to offer she was not content with where she was, and she wanted out.
The population of Hitkin Village were in general a quiet and peaceful people who were concerned with little else than the welfare of their own home and family. This indiscreet little piece of forest that just barely qualified as a town was where Rosemary Milliscent had grown up since she was three years old. On March 21st, her third birthday, Rosemary’s mother passed away and on March 22nd she was shipped like a piece of furniture to live with her elderly grandfather in a town that couldn’t be found even on a local map. Although she had barely any recollection of her mother at all, she knew that she looked exactly like her from the scant descriptions that she was provided by her caretaker. She also knew that life with her mother had been much better for her than it was now, but then again, anything would be better than living with the bitter old man that Rosemary was forced to call ‘Grandfather’.
He was a shrunken pile of skin and bones that stood no taller than four feet above the ground, practically eye-to-eye with his granddaughter who herself had only eight years. His demeanor was slight and unimpressionable but the strong hand which he laid upon Rosemary’s cheek in the moments of his rage gave her enough to fear him. Together, the small girl with this tragic story and the sour man with this unwanted burden lived in a small house practically in the middle of the forest and although this was where she lived it was not her home. Instead her home was away from the house that caused her so much misery, and it was among the trees that surrounded her house. They were her best friends. Their strong trunks supported her through everything and unlike the mother that had disappeared when she was small; Rosemary knew that the trees would not be going anywhere. She wanted more than anything to just become one of them even if only for one day or for one moment in time. She would like to feel that strong, solid, assuredness for once in her life instead of feeling scared and alone.
It was precisely at the moment when she was feeling most at home, high among the limbs of a strong tree when an unfamiliar and distant voice called out to her from the forest floor.
“Hello…. Who’s up there? I can see your feet dangling from down here. Answer me.” The voice was obviously that of a young person, a boy probably although the voice was too high to tell for sure. He had an accent that sounded distinguished and very polished. All of this made her even more curious as to who her foreign caller was and where exactly he was from. Effortlessly swinging back down the same branches that she had just a minute ago climbed up, Rosemary soon landed on her feet face-to-face with the stranger. He was indeed a boy who appeared to be about her own age. He was neat-looking, with pretty clothes, light hair and soft, un-calloused hands, quite an unusual look for a child living in this area. For a minute both children stared at each other thinking quite the same thing: “What an odd little creature.” For what the strange boy saw was a dirty, ruddy little girl wearing boys’ pants and short hair. She was far different from the people that he had ever met and he was surprised at not only her look but also her grand entrance just a few seconds ago. Regardless of this, he was brought up well by two God-fearing parents and had been taught that people should always introduce themselves properly upon their first meeting.
“Well, hello there. I’m Howard. I just moved here with Mother and Father from Great Britain because Daddy says that this is where the money is. I don’t know what he means but I just want to make friends while I am here. I am eight years old, I was born on July fourth, Independence Day and my favorite color is blue. What about you?”
Rosemary was unaccustomed to dealing with people at all and the abruptness of this new stranger frankly startled her.
With wide eyes Rosemary replied, “I didn’t ask you all of that.”
“Oh, I know that.” Said the boy whose name was Howard. “I just thought that those were some things that people ought to know about me. What are some things that I ought to know about you?”
“Well…um… my name is Rosemary. I live here and…”
She was abruptly broken off when Howard laughed and said, “Rosemary? Like the herb? How funny! Well Rosemary, I think I like you… well I like your name at least. Will you be my friend?” Rosemary never even had a chance to respond before Howard interrupted for the second time, answering his own question, “I’m glad then. I think that this will be the best of friendships between us two. I mean, we know so much about each other already. Don’t you agree?”
It was a friendship built upon chance for if the two had not crossed paths that day they might never have become friends, for as it turns out Howard and Rosemary had almost nothing in common. He was a pretty boy from Europe who had only moved to Hitkin Village for a temporary stay related to business matters but as time went on his high-class air and way of speech somewhat wore off because of his time spent with Rosemary. It turned out that the two had at least one thing in common. Neither had family. Neither had real family at least. Rosemary’s only surviving relative was a man who cared so little for her that he might as well not be there at all. And although Howard had both a mother and father, they were so busy with “grown-up matters” that they rarely had time to inquire where their only child spent his days in this strange new place. Both children were strong individuals but, the lack of love and appreciation that they received wore down on their ability to act like everything was fine.
Howard’s family was deeply religious and it was precisely for that reason that he could not believe that Rosemary had never heard of God.
“Howard,” she would say. “Who is God again? I mean, I’ve heard of him when Grandfather says his name sometimes. Like sometimes if I do something wrong he will say ‘I swear to God Rosemary’ or he’ll scream ‘Jesus Christ!’ when he gets mad.”
“God is this guy up in the sky that is really powerful and good and stuff,” Howard would begin to explain to her, “He watches us all. I mean, he really watches everybody all at the same time because he has all the power in the world or something like that. He sees us when we are doing bad stuff, like stealing candies from the candy jar and then somehow he punishes us. But he also sees us when we do good stuff like saying please and thank you and then he makes good things happen to us. He’s kinda like Santa Claus I guess.”
As the two children sat on a grassy hill that gently sloped downwards and faced the direction of the setting sun Rosemary would ask absentmindedly, “Who’s Santa Claus again Howard? I forget sometimes all these things that you tell me.”
If Howard ever got frustrated with Rosemary’s indifference he never showed it and instead, he told her the stories again and again with the hopes that someday it would sink in. “Never mind about Santa Claus. I don’t think that he is real anyways. God is supposed to be all of our father’s which means that we are all brothers and sisters. Cool right? That means that me and you are brother and sister Rosemary. Don’cha wanna be my sister Rosemary? Anyway, God takes care of all of us ‘cause we are his sons and daughters and when one of his children dies, he just takes them up with him up into the sky and he gives them a pair of wings to fly around with and then they’re called an angel after that.”
“Howard? So does that mean that my Mommy is an angel now? ‘Cause that would make me really happy! ‘Cause then that means that when I get to be an angel, I get to see my Mommy again right? Right, Howard?” Rosemary eagerly asked.
“Yup, it sure does. But don’t be an angel too soon Rosemary. I like it when you’re down here on earth with me.”
It was after conversations like these when Rosemary would then walk home in the dark through the familiar forest, weaving in and out through the trees, following a familiar path. She would reach the door to her unfamiliar house and take in a deep breath before facing the monster that she knew lay in wait ready to attack as soon as she stepped foot in the house. ‘Hopefully,’ she would think, ‘Today will be one of his good days.’ She would cautiously step into the small entrance room which led right into the kitchen where she knew Grandfather would be sitting waiting for her. Although her small feet barely made a sound as she treaded lightly down the hallway, Grandfather always knew when she was home. “Rosemary. Come here. Where were you this time? I hope you weren’t out in that decrepit wilderness with that pretty boy of yours.” His voice would threaten her with its tone alone even if his message was merely a question.
“Yes…yes Grandfather, I was with um, Howard…yes Howard. We were um, talking about God and things and Grandfather I have a question. My… my mother. Is she an angel now? Howard says that… he says that when someone goes away then God takes them and makes them an… an angel.” Her small, trembling voice full of emotion seemed even smaller compared to his.
“God! God again! Rosemary, you are my granddaughter and part of my bloodline as much as I hate to admit it. No relative of mine will go around spitting nonsense about some God as if he is real. Your mother is dead child! She is dead and gone from this earth and from any other place forever. There is no Heaven or Hell. There are no angels or demons. Those who die simply stay that way cold and dead and lifeless, forever. What don’t you understand girl? Life is just what it is and there is no higher power making the decisions for us. We choose what we do and nothing is guaranteed. Your mother died of her own stupidity and you are here because of that same reason.”
With tears streaming down her face Rosemary would say, “Yes, Grandfather” and that would be that. The feeling of hope that she had experienced that afternoon would be nothing more than a fantasy or as if it had never happened at all.
Howard’s ‘vacation’ in Hitkin Village became a prolonged stay and he and his family began to call the tiny place home. For two years until both children were ten they became the closest of companions and shared their knowledge of the world with each other. Rosemary taught Howard how to climb the tall sycamore trees that grew outside his house and how to ‘understand’ what the animals were trying to say to him. Howard taught Rosemary everything about God and Christianity and once when they were nine, Rosemary snuck into the back of Howard’s church to hear the sermon. The two only grew closer together as time wore on and when Howard finally had to take his leave from Hitkin Village, it was a time of immense sorrow and many tears were shed, for both children had grown so used to each other’s company that life without each other was almost unimaginable. Together they had come up with a way to be with each other, because they both knew that apart they would never be happy again.
“Do you remember the plan Rosemary.” Howard whispered on the night before he was due to leave. They sat together on a high tree limb at the top of a particularly tall tree right in the middle of the forest. Looking out from where they sat they had a view of the Two-Faced Mountain and they could clearly distinguish the large shadow that it cast over the village.
“Of course. How could I forget. First we’re gonna…” Rosemary began eagerly.
“Not so loud! Someone could hear us and remember it’s just supposed to be me and you who know the plan.”
“Oh Howard, there’s no one out here but me, you, the trees, the birds and the mountain and none of them would tell on us.”
“And God Rosemary. Don’t forget about God and remember I told you that if God knows that we are doing something bad then he will punish us. So we can’t make God think we are doing something bad or else something bad will happen to us.” This childish mentality went completely unnoticed by Rosemary for she too had the same way of thinking.
“I could never forget about God! He’s the whole reason why we’re doing this thing, right?”
“Yup. But we gotta be careful Rosemary ‘cause if our parents find out about this they will never let me see you again and then they will take me back to that horrid place where I lived before this. You don’t want that do you Rosemary?”
“No way! We’re gonna be best friends forever Howard and no old parents are gonna be able to stop us.”
That night at around the very moment when the moon and the sun were in the sky at the same time both on either side of Hitkin Mountain, everybody in the households of both Howard and Rosemary were presumed to be asleep. Despite this fact, two small, determined souls, two refreshing, sparks of life were awake and alive and scurrying about their houses. Although they were far apart from each other, both had complete confidence in the other and knew that their plan would not fail. Their tiny beating hearts pounded in sync as they stepped outside of their houses silently, each with a small sack containing the most vital of their possessions. The crisp night air was refreshing, as being locked up in the house with high anticipation of the nights activities had left both anxious.
Their meeting place was on the very same gently sloping hill that faced Two-Faced Mountain, where they had spent so many of their days. The excitement in the eyes of both children was evident and the hug that they gave each other in greeting was heartfelt and well needed.
“Are you ready Howard?” asked Rosemary, for once taking charge.
“Sure am Rose.”
“Well then we better get moving. The sun will be coming up brightly soon and then someone might be able to see us.”
“Wait a minute Rose,” Howard began, “Let’s pray first.”
The two children joined hands creating a small circle of tiny-boned, delicate arms. Howard said a short prayer that he had heard his parents say many times, “Hear, O Lord, our humble prayers, and guide Your servants safely in the path of Your salvation, that amid all the changes and chances of this life they may ever be sheltered by Your help. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
With this Rosemary and Howard turned to face the tall trees of the forest and officially begin their journey. Now the Two-Faced Mountain was at their back and it watched the two children as they had watched it for all those years. The mountain saw how Rosemary resembled itself. She had a side of child-like innocence that was beautiful, young and flourishing but she also had a cold, hard side that had experienced the difficulties of life. The difference between the two was that unlike Two-Faced Mountain, Rosemary was not content to remain ‘two-faced’. This quality did not make her beautiful like the mountain. To the people in this world it made her strange. So Rosemary chose to prize her youth above all. She would rather risk the unknowns of the world if it meant the freedom to be as young and innocent and happy as she wanted to be. This sentiment was true for both children.
If someone had happened to be in the forest that night when the moon and the sun were in the sky at the same time, they might have heard Rosemary and Howard talking. A person close by would have heard them talking about a kindly Catholic orphanage somewhere, twenty or thirty miles from the small town of Hitkin Village, and although this was their destination the two children really had no idea where they were headed. They could only hope that it was right into the arms of God.