Mark woke up and wondered if he had dreamed it all. He was in bed alone as he knew he would be. Terri was already up and running into her day. The curtain to their one and only bedroom window was pulled back and the room was bright with early morning light. He sat up in bed and pulled the blanket around his chin. How could he go back in time to the day he was born through a window? He must have been told that story about Lilly’s Department Store and dreamed it was him in that store. That’s what it had to be. Had to be. But it seemed so real. He decided to get up and take a shower. He pushed the blanket aside, stood beside the bed, and pulled the blanket toward him. He went around to the other side of the bed, pulled the blanket tight, and smoothed it out. He fluffed up Terri’s pillow and went around the bed again to his side and fluffed his pillow. He smiled to himself and looked at the bedcover that was carefully folded on the end of the bed. It had become a habit of his, and Terri’s, that whoever got up last would straighten the bed so that the first one up could finish it. He thought about doing the finishing-up- job but left it where it was and went into the bathroom.
He went directly to the shower and turned it on. He removed his pajamas, tossed them into the clothes hamper in the corner and sat on the toilet. He stood, flushed, waited for the toilet to fill, and then stepped into the shower. The water was perfect, and he let it run over him, soaking his hair. He wondered about the circle window again and those symbols around its rim, IDAN, over and over again. First, how did he not see them before and how long had they been there? He reached forward, grabbed his two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, poured some into his hand, and plopped it on the top of his head.
Dressed and freshly shaven, Mark walked into the kitchen and found it empty. A small skillet was on the stove. Two eggs and an empty glass were sitting on the counter on top of a sheet of paper. He smiled to himself as he read the note scribbled on the paper – You took too long, make your own! Love ya loads, T. He opened the fridge and took out the orange juice and butter. He decided the two eggs would be over easy and as they sizzled in the butter, he planned his day. He was going to call Marie first and ask her about the window and then do some research about what that word means. He flipped the eggs over as he continued to plan. After his research, then he was going to his office and…write or check out that window. He pulled the skillet from the stove and turned off the burner. He slid them on to his plate and sat at the kitchen table with his glass of juice. He stood again, pulled his phone out of his front pocket and sat down again. He cut up the eggs, mixed the yolk with the white, leaned over and took a bite. He took a sip from the glass, cleared his throat while he pressed the button on the phone and said, “Call Best Daughter.” He pressed the speaker button that appeared on the screen and listened to the phone ring. It didn’t take long.
“You do know what time it is?” the voice said.
“No, I don’t,” Mark answered her. “How is the best daughter ever?”
“Busy. I am running late. What do you want?” Marie asked.
“Real quick then. Do you know anything about the circle window in your bedroom?”
There was a silence and Mark wondered if he had somehow pressed a button to disconnect her.
“What do you mean, Dad?” her voice was more serious.
“I made the room into my office and I decided to start writing a book. I was looking out the window for inspiration and something weird happened,” he explained to her.
More silence from the other end of the line.
“Marie?” he asked.
“I’m here. Can you do lunch today?”
“Sure. Where?” he asked her.
“How about that McDonald’s across the street from my school at 11:30?” Marie offered.
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Does Mom know?”
“No, not yet.”
“Good. See you later,” she said and disconnected.
Mark put the phone on the table, leaned forward and took another bite of his egg. He rolled the conversation over again in his mind. What a strange one it was, and he wondered what else he was going to learn at lunch. He pressed the button on his phone and the time appeared on it, 7:12 a.m. About four hours before he knows anything more from his daughter. He pressed and held the button again, and said, “What does IDAN mean?”
A voice responded “Aydan is a Gaelic boy’s name that means fire…”
“What?” Mark looked down at the phone that saw the printout of the voice’s message that it had used Aydan instead of IDAN. He grabbed the phone and accessed the menu He found the icon with G and pressed it. When the search field appeared, he typed in the question, what does IDAN mean?. The response appeared and he read, Idan is a boy’s name of Hebrew origin, and the meaning of Idan is “era, time”.
“Time,” Mark said out loud. “Now, that is interesting.”
He finished his egg, swallowed down the remainder of the orange juice, and placed the dishes along with the skillet into the sink. He knew that he would be talked to about leaving them there. He went upstairs to his room and went directly to the window. The view was the same as he saw the bright sunlight cast shadows from his left to right. He noticed a bus slow and stop at the corner of his street and the side street. A few children boarded it. The bus rolled down a block and more children boarded it there.
Mark turned his attention to the window frame. He looked more closely at the etching and noted that the letters themselves were well shaped and not simply scratched into the surface and they seemed to be burned into it. He touched it again and it felt smooth. He thought that was strange because it looked like he should be able to feel the edges of the letters. He moved his finger to the top of the frame to feel the symbol that he thought it was a compass. He pulled back his finger in surprise. He returned his fingers to the symbol again and carefully felt the ridges if the compass. Unlike the letter, he could feel the lines of the eight directions distinctly and he could follow each line to the arrow tip at the end. The arrow tip at the top felt deeper than the rest of the symbol and he thought that this tip was the first lines carved into the frame.
He stepped back and wondered what does this mean? Did he really go into the window into the past? And, most importantly, where in the world does he find out?
To be continued…
My First Stories 