Soft Steps

We arrived at my grandfather’s farm on the French countryside. I was only a child when I visited at one time to this very place. Back then we didn’t have a care in the world; I was merely an innocent child with a love for twirling around without worrying about wars, racism, or money. Nothing mattered back then it was just pure innocence of being blissfully unaware of everything terrible in the world.

I would give anything to feel that good again, to feel safety in words and have my family back together like it used to be. When dreams were of becoming a ballerina instead of dreams of just being able to survive reigned without wavering.

Papa Leon’s farm was still the same as it was when I was a little girl. A place I always felt safe. But things were different now the place felt more abandoned no longer holding the warmth it once held when Papa Leon lived here.

Entering the modest sized house with Lucy and little Brandon sleeping in her arms I took in every little detail of the home. Lucy set Brandon down on the couch carefully and stood with her hands on her hips looking around as well.

“It’s nice here,” Lucy comments.
“Yeah,” I respond trying to keep it all together. The trip was so long and I could see that Lucy was exhausted.
“I’ll start something cleaning the kitchen,” she announces.
“No that’s okay, take a nap, I’m not at all too tired so I’ll do some cleaning,” I reply with a small smile.
“You sure?” Lucy inquires.
“Positive go rest, we’ve got plenty of time to unpack and clean,” I reassure. Finally listening to me Lucy went to the room she claimed o be hers with Brandon and shut the door. Once she was gone I did some cleaning in the kitchen. My fingers grazed the dishes that were the last Papa Leon had used. It was a simple ivory coffee cup with faded floral designs along the side of it and silver spoon. He was dead, first my daddy, then my mama and now him. A sad smile crept onto my face remembering Papa Leon.


I was in a field of flowers it was the middle of spring in France and I was dancing around without a care in the world. A smile graced my young face and hair bouncing around as I twirled around in circles until I could no longer stand. Falling on my back I heard musical laughter above me. The sun was blocked from my view and Papa Leon stood above me with a big smile on his wrinkled face.

“What ever are you doing my darling?” Papa Leon questions.
“I’m falling,” I smile as he helped me up onto my feet.
“It’s good to fall every once in the while as long as you get back up,” he replies.
“I love falling, it makes my heart flutter like a little butterfly and sometimes I feel like I’m flying,” I say full of delight.
“You know you can get that feeling without falling,” Papa Leon comments.
“How?” I demand, wanting to know other ways to make myself feel so free.
“Love can do that Solely,” he answers.
“Papa you’re silly I love so many things but they don’t make my heart flutter like falling,” I chuckle in response.
“You’ll understand when you get older and I promise it’ll be the greatest fall of all time mi amour,” Papa Leon responds with a soft smile as he kissed my forehead lovingly.

Now I was older and I had yet to feel the greatest fall of all time. To be honest I don’t think about finding that flutter in my heart anymore. I didn’t focus on those sorts of things anymore. It seemed survival was good enough for me. People would say that was sad but it was true I didn't have time for fairytales or living with my head in the clouds like I used to when I was young

Reluctantly I washed the dishes feeling like I was washing his memory away but I knew that would be impossible because Papa Leon was in every bit of space of this land; it was all him. From the vegetable garden to the rocking chair in the living room everything had a little bit of him in it.

The next couple of days consisted of unpacking and getting adjusted to both the time zone and work load that was required to take care of a farm. Farm life was hard work and since Papa Leon was gone it was even harder because I didn’t have his help. There were chickens that laid eggs almost on a daily basis; cows that needed milking along with various other animals. Personally I quite loved animals, always had when I was growing up and this was the most I had seen in a while since I lived in the city for a while.

Papa Leon left instructions thankfully about each animal and my fingers traced the cursive letters of the guide he had written for me to follow. He had recently taken in a horse named Spirit; it was a beautiful majestic looking stallion with charcoal gray fur and long shiny mane. This horse was as wild as they came and incredibly dangerous to those that approached it. It had only trusted Papa Leon and I couldn’t help but feel this horse missed him just as much as I did.

Lucy kept away from Spirit and so did Brandon as a safety measure; I took it upon myself to be the caretaker of the wild stallion forming a kinship with him often watching from afar as it ran around in the pastor. Papa Leon instructed that I should take care of Spirit because he thought I had always been good with the animals as a child and that it was a gift of some sorts. Even from the grave Papa Leon had faith in me and it filled my heart with warmth knowing that.

One particular day Lucy had to go into town to pick up some supplies. She took Papa Leon’s old car in the morning and I watched Brandon while she was out. Brandon and I ran around the pastors as I taught him what animals were which and what sounds they made. It was a riot hearing him make the sounds of a cow and chicken often having me laugh at his attempts to start walking around like an animal.

The hours passed and I grew worried looking at the time. Lucy was supposed to be home by now from picking up the supplies from town. I began to clean in a fit of nervousness and worry whilst Brandon played with his toys on the sofa. When I had nothing left to clean I started cooking but even that didn’t soothe my nerves.

The nagging part of my brain told me that something terrible happened; that Lucy was hurt with no one to help her or some Nazis took her prisoner for being American. Anything could have happened to her and my stomach was clenched in a tight knot thinking of all the possibilities.

If she didn’t come back within an hour I would surely have a nervous breakdown more so than I was already having at the moment. I have to stay positive, she could be perfectly fine, maybe she met a nice man who wanted to take her out for ice cream and they just lost track of time. Maybe the store was busy and she had to wait longer so she was on her way back home at this very moment.

Lucy please come home soon I can’t take this not knowing of where you are.