The Sign (Revision)

I awoke to the sound of falling rain. Hungry and cold, I had nothing in my pockets but a few pieces of lint the same color as the overcast sky. When I finally stood up I saw that I had been lying on top of an Indian head Nickel. I picked it up and pocketed it.1

I was grateful for the roof that had been over my head last night, otherwise I would be soaked by now. It was the first real safe nights sleep I had in quite a while. I would have to find Mrs. Allen and thank her again, and return this nickel to her. I pulled the nickel back out of my pocket and looked at it, focusing hard on the side with the Indian Chief. I remembered the times Fran and I collected coins. In rural New Mexico, there wasn't a whole lot else to do. I tried to hold back the tears as the memories overcame me, but it was useless. Grief washed over me again, wrapping me up, swaddling me like an infant. I sat back down and gave into it, wondering if this pain would ever lessen. It had been almost 9 weeks since my sisters' sudden passing.2

I heard a gentle knock on the door and Mrs. Allen pushed the door open and looked in at me. Sniffing back the tears I tried to put on a happy face, so I could thank her for her kindness. “I want to thank you for letting me stay here last night” I croaked out. She just nodded and from around her back she produced some clothes and other items. “ I am sorry I didn't think to give you anything to sleep in last night” she said. I assured her that I was used to sleeping in my clothes these days, not to worry about it. She just gave me a sad smile, and pointed me toward the bathroom. “You’ll find everything you need to get cleaned up, and I hope these clothes will do until I can get yours washed”. I cleaned off the dirt and grime under the hot water, and I felt the lightest I had felt for weeks. After shampooing my hair and washing my teeth, I dried off and put on clothes given me. I gathered up my dirty laundry and headed out towards the main part of the house. The smell of bacon, eggs, and toast greeted me, and my stomach rumbled uncontrollably. Mrs. Allen had already heaped a plate full of food for me, and she motioned for me to sit down.3

As I ate, I took the time to really look at Mrs. Allen. She was probably in her late 70’s, with a still smooth complexion, and very kind eyes. Her house reflected her personality, warm and inviting. I wondered how often she took in strangers, but didn't dare ask her that directly.4

After my second plateful of food, I began to tell her the story of my sister’s death about 9 weeks ago, and how, it had been quite a severe blow to my heart. Her death left me with so many questions, that I became consumed with them, and could no longer work. I just started drifting, looking for signs that she was still somewhere in this world. 5

She just let me tell it all, nodding here, and smiling gently there. Then, I remembered the Indian head nickel that I had found in the little bed in the guest room. I took it out and showed it to her and laid it on the table. I told her how that was our favorite coin to collect, how we loved the profile of the Indian chief with his braid running down the one side of his face. We imagined him riding off on that buffalo, never fearing the seeming ferocity of it.6

She took my hand and placed the nickel in it and said “ I believe that this was sent to you from your sister, she knew you were struggling for peace and sent this knowing you would recognize the sign.” As I lifted my head to voice my doubt, my body started shivering, as I saw a painting on the wall. Depicted in the painting, was the Indian Chief sitting astride the buffalo. Braid running along the same side as on the coin. Silent tears streamed down my face as the sun seemed to beam in through the window and light up the painting. This was the sign, that I recognized my sister through, and I wept with joy as the realization set in. I felt the stirrings of love return into my heart, for I had forsaken it, denied it, felt there was no place for it amid the pain. Mrs. Allen had tiptoed out to put my clothes to wash, and when she returned I stood and hugged her. "You were truly a godsend, Mrs. Allen, I hope you know that." I said. She was very humble about the subject and seemed a little embarrased by my gratitude, so we changed the subject. I cleaned up the dishes from breakfast, with a song in my heart once again. Once my clothes were ready, I gave Mrs. Allen a big hug, and then I set out to return to my life.7