Written for class at St. Edward’s University
The Rift
Grandmother said that it happened because we forgot how to feel. She told me and Jimmy that if the world had just listened to Mother Earth, that it wouldn’t have happened, but just like Granddad, she knew humans were hard-headed.
“The Great Mother was mad,” she told us, “Mad because her children had forsaken her and ignored her warnings. So she taught them a lesson.”
At that point, she would take us out to the tip top of our house-on-stilts and she would show us just what Mother Earth had done. All around us was water, in all directions that’s all we could see for miles and miles. Neither me nor Jimmy could remember anything before this, since I was only nine and he was six. So every time Grandmother told us how it used to be, we would try and imagine really hard.
“That over there,” Grandmother’s old, weathered hand stretched out toward the north of us. “That’s where the Old Coast used to be. Padre Island, Corpus Christi and Galveston – all big and bustling cities suddenly gone.” She clapped her hands, making me and Jimmy jump, “Just like that.”
Jimmy stared at her, blue eyes wide and innocent, “But, what happened to the cities?”
“The ocean stole them away.” She brought her arm around in a great sweeping motion, “All of this was taken out to sea.”
“If the ocean took it all,” I queried, “How are we here?”
“We listened,” Grandmother replied, solemnly, “Your granddad and I were prepared for the wrath of the Great Mother and we were able to build this,” she stomped her foot on the wooden floor, “This house has withstood the tests of time. It stood strong when the Great Mother shook her earth like a snow globe and when the tide shifted and jostled like the water in your bath tub and when the ocean took her coast back. It’s because we listened that you two,” she pointed her gnarly finger at me and Jimmy, “are even alive. Your mother was your age, Eva, when it happened and it’s a miracle that we even survived at all.”
Jimmy tugged on Grandmother’s sleeve, his black hair whipping about his face in the cool sea breeze. “What happened after? Where are all the people?”
“And how did Mom meet Dad?” I inquired.
Grandmother chuckled, “One at a time! You see that island over there?” She pointed south.
I squinted my eyes and barely made out a dark smudge on the horizon. “I see it!”
“That used to be here.” She pointed down, “Right here next to us. When it happened it split and was pulled away, almost taking our house with it. It broke the power lines and we couldn’t call anyone on the phone. We had no electricity.”
Jimmy’s nose scrunched up. “What’s that?”
“It’s like the lamps we have,” I told him, “But instead of lighting them with a match, you just flip a switch on the wall. I read about it in one of Granddad’s old books.”
Grandmother nodded. “That’s right. We used to have electricity here but now we don’t, in fact I don’t know if anyone does anymore. Even after almost twenty years the United Nations still hasn’t been able to fix anything. Radios don’t work either, since the earth’s magnetization got messed up, too.”
“Magne-what?” I asked.
“Never mind, I’ll explain when you’re older. Look,” she pointed again, “Your dad is coming back from the New Coast with supplies.”
Sure enough, there was Dad’s little boat, just close enough so we could see the bright red sail.
“Just like that first day, sixteen years ago,” Grandmother smiled, “He rowed up in his little boat looking for his family. Then he saw your mother and decided to stay.”
I smiled, too. I always liked hearing that part. Jimmy made a face. He obviously didn’t understand how romantic it was.
“I hope I get a boy like Dad someday.” I told Grandmother.
“Oh, you will, sweetheart,” she patted my arm, “you will. Now let’s get inside to greet your dad. We can check the newspaper he bought to see what the rest of the world is doing. Maybe they’ve solved the electricity shortage finally.”
Space Cowboys
There have always been space cowboys, at least that’s what Gramps told me and I figure he should know since he used to be one. Every night, just after dark he would take me outside to sit on our roof and look up at the sky. He’d point up to the stars, pointing out the figures that had only appeared as dots to me before.
“That one there,” he’d drawl, “That’s the Rodeo Rider. Can you see his open lasso right there?”
I’d always nod, even if I didn’t know where he was pointing to, but I was always so eager to hear what Gramps said about them and the fantastic stories he’d tell me of when he was younger.
“When I was just a year or two older than you, Sean,” he’d tell me, “They recruited me.”
“Who recruited you, Gramps?” I’d always ask him and even though he’d told me the same answer every single time, I still liked to hear it.
“Them space cowboys, son, you know, the ones who wrangle all those shiny spots up there?” He’d nod, knowingly, “They fight for those stars. It’s their way of life.”
I’d look to where he lay on the roof next to me, chewing on his piece of hay as the warm, summer wind tossed what little was left of his greying hair.
“But, what happened?” I’d ask, “Why did they want you?”
He’d chuckle, “Why does any hardworking country cowboy want help from a strong, young teenager, son? They needed me for the round up. They came down in that fancy craft of theirs, picked me up, horse and all and brought me with them out there.” He’d wave his hand out towards the black void in the sky and then smile. “It was the best time of my life.”
I’d grin back at him, enthralled; every time he’d tell me about it, it was just so interesting. Really, it was the only exciting thing that I can remember about my childhood. Everyone else thought he was crazy, and maybe he was, but I didn’t care. He was my Gramps. He knew everything and he’d never lie to me.
It wasn’t until his funeral when I was about nineteen that anyone remembered the stories he’d used to tell. We were out in the field at the gravesite and the sun was just about to go down. The preacher was saying the Lord’s Prayer over the large wooden box when a bright light came up over the hill. The wind picked up suddenly, the pages of the preacher’s Bible whipping all around and every man grabbed onto his hat. The light stopped a little distance away from us and I shielded my eyes, trying to get a good look at it.
Some sort of door on the side opened and two figures walked out and approached us. As they got closer, we could see that they really looked like any other western cowboys only they had these flickering lights and strange metallic gadgets on their arms. One of them cleared its throat.
“We heard he’d passed,” he said in a very normal sounding voice, “He was a good man and a wonderful help to us.”
“He’ll be missed.” The second one spoke up and then looked at me. “You’re Sean?”
I swallowed and nodded slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. “Y-Yeah.” I stammered, “Why?”
They smiled at each other. “He said you believed. He said to ask you to join us.”
I heard a gasp from some woman and noticed the preacher collapse in a heap. Maybe it was all the whiskey I’d been drinking, maybe it was just the night playing tricks but I could’ve sworn I saw Gramps wave and nod to me from out in the dark sky.
“Sure,” I told them, “Why not.”
The Write Way TX 