by Todd Kelsey
Edith carefully reached for the wooden box from the shelf, and set it down in Billy’s lap, who politely burned with curiosity. There was always something about Grandma. And his flesh prickled a bit when he saw the phrase, which he had only seen in one other place – on a necklace his father had worn, the last time he had seen him.
“Go ahead, open it, it’s just a few things your Great Grandfather wanted you to have.” and Edith felt the ache of the sacrifice that soldiers make. She felt the hollow place inside her, and the memory of losing her son in the Vietnam War and still hoping against hope that he was in a prison camp somewhere. And she felt her granddaughter’s fear, with Jane’s husband Sam now off in a disaster zone with his helicopter. And now this great grandson, who might end up as the only living link for this legacy someday. Rescue and Defend, indeed - the words echoed in her mind with the solid authority of a thousand flowers she had laid down over the years.
Billy looked her in the eye, and Edith held her breath. Just for a moment she had seen he husband’s features outlined in the great grandson – the blue eyes, the serious but kind stare, so old and yet so young. The Wallace legacy. The Order of the Dragonfly. Rescue and Defend.
And then Billy pleasantly opened the box, which contained a small toy, which he knew was a Spitfire, and two envelopes marked Now, and Later.
“You can open the one marked Now, Billy” his mother said, wondering whether the Order of the Dragonfly was a curse, or a blessing, or something in between. She exercised her internal muscles, blowing away the butterflies floating around, drawn in by the reminder of how her husband was off in Asia, in some godforsaken weather conditions, doing search and rescue missions – probably as a result of family tradition. Probably as a result of having received a box like this. She felt a protective reflex, an urge to take the box.
“After my son died, Jane, I wanted to take these boxes and burn them all” Edith said, her words touching Jane quietly. “But then I remember all the men and women who died in England when Hitler attacked us. It all seemed so senseless at the time. Yet later I came to realize how close the entire planet had come to falling into shadow.” She put her hand on Jane’s wrist. “And I believe they died for something. For freedom.” She gave a gentle squeeze.
Billy opened the envelope marked Now, and it contained a key.
Jane gasped and her mind did a back flip, like a ball of tightly wound yarn coming unsprung. She didn’t know whether to feel awe, or sadness, or joy.
I remember that key.
