The Glass Elevator

              This is a bit of prose, written by my late son Paul. I'm not sure what year he wrote it. 

              I hope you might like it. 

The Glass Elevator

               You will turn the knob slowly with your frail withered hand.  Stepping into the hallway, you will take in the familiar mix of aromas as the door swings shut behind you.  Chlorine, air fresheners and various cleaning products.  Your ears will be tickled by the sounds of rushing fountains, the light buzzing of the younger people enjoying their happy hour and the screams of several children turning this oasis of luxury into a playground.

                You will sigh and dig the tip of your cane into the thick carpet.  Life just isn’t what it used to be.

                You will make your way slowly down the hall gazing idly at the exquisite paintings on the wall.  You’ve looked at them so many times.  So many that it will surprise you that you still notice them.  But they remind you of me, like everything here reminds you of me.  You don’t cry.  You never have.  But it hurts, like a deep hollow in your chest, and you will try to avert your gaze and direct your attention to the distant lobby.

                An attractive young cleaning attendant will roll their cart past you, but you only smile and nod.  You were always faithful, yes, but in the past you would have looked.  Imagined what it would have been like to indulge.  Now you don’t care.  They are not me.  It is me that you miss.

                As you turn the corner into the main lobby, you will hear the gentle coo of songbirds.  Why would there be birds here?  You will wonder.  You will scratch your head, thinking you must be going crazy.  You will adjust your hearing aid.  The other sounds will still be there, but the birds will be gone.  You will shrug. 

                You will walk lazily toward the elevator.  You will not be sure why, but something draws you there.  It will open.  You will walk in and close the door behind you.  Not sure which floor you want to go to, you will hit every button.  You used to do that for fun as a child.  Now you do it because you don’t know what else to do.

                The elevator will begin to rise and you will be mesmerized as always by the view through its clear polished surface.  The flowing fountains.  The colorful flowers.  The ivy that seems to climb as you do.  The art and the architecture, some of the best in the world.  You will salute the beauty of it all and smile as if saying goodbye.  Again you will hear the cooing of songbirds.  You will adjust your hearing aid, but they will still be there.  You will take out your hearing aid.  Every other sound will vanish, but the songbirds will still be there. 

                You will laugh to yourself.  You knew you would go crazy sooner or later.  The elevator keeps rising and you realize that you are no longer looking at ivy and famous paintings.  You are staring at blue sky and puffy white clouds. 

                You will gasp in astonishment, not so much at the fact that the elevator is soaring through the sky, but at the fact that you aren’t more shocked by it. 

                The cooing of the songbirds will grow louder and you will start humming along with them.  Clouds will fall beneath you as you rise higher and higher.

                The light blue sky and white clouds will give way to a dark blue sky illuminated by thousands of bright twinkling stars of many different colors. 

                You will rub your eyes as if you can’t believe how beautiful it all is.  The stars grow brighter and brighter.  The coo of the songbirds slowly coalesces into a soothing hymn sung by a choir so sweet and lovely that it can only be angels.

                The light will become so intense that you can’t see anything for a moment.  You will blink.  Then you will see me.  Your beloved.  Your spouse of more than fifty years.  Reunited at last.

                You will rush to my side and we will embrace.  Then I will tell you that I want you to meet someone.  You will look at me quizzically.  I will smile.

                When you see him, you will fall to your knees.  You talked to him everyday of your life without fail.  Even when you doubted him, you still talked to him.  You wore his image around your neck.  And now here he is face to face.

                You will lower your head, not feeling worthy to look at him.  But he will take you by the hand.  He will fill you with his unbounded peace and love.  He will tell you to rise and walk with him.  He will welcome you into his home forever. 

                And I will take your hand in mine and walk with you.  Forever.

(By Paul Myers)