PART 7: Goodbyes
41: Farewell to Melody
I took it easy, driving in to Teklapori; I didn’t want to give her body any bumpier a ride than need be. It’s not like I thought she was still in it or anything. It was a matter of respect. And besides, it seemed like all of her I had left.
I felt tired and empty, and kind of half conscious, as if my mind was turned off, but every now and then I’d come out of it and look around. After a while it started to get dark, so I stopped and called to Blue Wing, and asked if he’d like to ride on the folding roof. I suspected he wouldn’t, on something moving like that, but he didn’t much like flying after dark, either, and it seemed as if he wanted to go with me. Or with Melody, actually; him and her had gotten to be such good friends that fall and winter. Anyway he didn’t say a thing, just flew up there and perched, and on we went.
After another couple hours, I stopped and put a feedbag of oats on Socks’s nose, and when I got back on the seat, Blue Wing was perched on the arm rest on the rider’s side, claustrophobia be darned. I didn’t say anything when I sat down, but after we started off again, I reached over and stroked his head a couple of times. “Thanks, old friend,” I said, and started crying again. After a while he spoke. I don’t think he had the equipment to talk really quietly, but he kept it halfway soft.
“That’s not her back there, you know.”
“I know,” I answered. “But I’ve got to treat her body with respect. She lived in it for more than twenty years, and loved me with it, and I loved her with it.”
“Do you feel her now?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. Do you?”
“Yes.” He paused half a minute, then went on. “She tells me you will too, when you go to sleep tonight.”
He meant it, I didn’t doubt. I didn’t know whether she’d really talked to him, or if he only imagined it, but he believed what he told me. “How does she seem?” I asked him.
“Different and the same. She is herself, beyond doubt, but without appurtenances or impurities, irritations or anxieties.”
“Umm.” I looked at that. “I never knew Melody to have anxieties.”
“Oh yes. Some of her impatience grew out of anxiety. Anxiety that she’d miss something, that it might get away. Everyone, man or raven, has a main inner impediment in life. Impatience was hers.”
I thought about that. She’d been patient enough waiting for me, but overall it seemed like he was right. I wondered what my main impediment was. “Is she happy?” I asked.
“Yes she is. If you concentrate, perhaps you can sense her, even awake.”
I tried it: made a picture of her in front of me, hoping she might sort of step into it, but she didn’t, so I gave up on it and just drove along. After a while I got sleepy, and about half dozed. Then it seemed like there was a light floating above Socks, a sort of round glow maybe three feet across, and I stared at it, not hard, just looking. It was a spirit aura without any body, I realized, and told myself whose it had to be. Although a lot of the pattern was missing.
hOf course, darling,h she thought to me. My hair stood right on end; even the follicles without hair drew up in little cones. hA lot of an aura,h she went on, hgoes with living or comes from living.h I started to shake, not scared, but just . . . It’s really you, I thought to her, and realized that along with the goose bumps, and the tears running down my face, I was grinning like a fool.
We rode along like that awhile without anything more being said. There was just a feeling of clear pure love. I don’t know how long this went on—fifteen minutes, or an hour or longer. Probably longer, the way things turned out. Then the buggy hit a good bump and my eyes popped open, and the aura was gone. All that was left was a goodbye and a thought—that she loved me, and she’d drop in on me from time to time in my dreams.