An incredible short story written by Taylor Haggerson " 7 Years" brings colorful and descriptive imagery to a bizarre new reality. Haggerson's eloquent style of writing helps place you into a world that is not what it seems. When I read her story " 7 Years" I was deeply impressed by her ability to allow the reader to visualize, and feel the emotion of the main character as we follow her through this journey. It also created a metaphor for me about the life we are currently ling amidst this pandemic. Time really seems longer, and it feels as if our lives have stopped. I am proud to share her story with you.
7 Years
I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know how I got here.
It was a Thursday, and I planned to drive home from school the following day to celebrate my little sister’s 18th birthday. I had woken up that Friday morning later than I’d planned; my goal was to be on the road by 8 am. I managed to leave around 8:45. Today was all about my sister, today was her day. I made it home in record time. However, I would have been sooner, had I not missed the new exit on the highway to go home. I was all disoriented, the roads had been completely remodeled. Funny, I was just here, and these roads weren’t even under construction. Crazy how quickly roads can change.
It was the same old house, only it seemed… darker. As if a dark grey cloud was settled permanently above our house. I could see my dad’s car in the driveway. But only his. The house looked kind of depressing if you asked me. I decided to leave my stuff in the car and go inside first, just to see everybody and pet my doggy. We had my dog ever since I was 11, I’m 20 now. She was nearing her old age, but she was always bursting with energy at the chance to see me again. When I went to unlock the door, I realized my key didn’t fit in the lock. When did we change the locks…and why? I shrugged off the thought and knocked on the door. I waited to hear if my dog would start barking and run to the door. But I didn’t hear her, I figured she was sleeping. As a matter-of-fact, I didn’t hear anything for a good while before the door finally opened. When the door did open, I saw my dad. His go-tee had turned grey, speckled only slightly with black and he was mostly bald now. His eyes were prominently crinkled in the corner and his face hung lower than I had ever seen. The babyface I’d once remembered was replaced now by that of a man in his late fifties. He stared at me for a good long time without saying a word.
What the hell is going on?
Finally, when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice cracked, and he began to sob. Before I knew it, he was grabbing onto me in an attempt to hug me but more so as a way for him not to fall down.
What the hell is going on?
“Dad?” I could barely mutter the word.
I stood in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. Replaying over and over in my head, the conversation I had just had with my dad. Seven years had passed. The year was 2027, and seven years had passed since yesterday. I couldn’t explain it any more than he could. Seven years had passed. My mother had been dead for 3 of those years. A heart attack from what my dad told me.
Seven years…
I could hardly process anything.
I stood in front of the mirror, nothing about myself was different. I was still 20 years old. I looked the exact same. I’m supposed to have changed over the course of minutes, days, years. But somehow, for seven years, I stopped. I was seven years younger than the world around me. I splashed some water on my face hoping somehow it would help me wake up from whatever nightmare I was having.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, back into the kitchen my dad was pacing back and forth. He had the phone in his shaky hands dialing some number on it.
What the hell is going on?
I decided to walk around the house a bit, in an attempt to grasp my new reality. I walked through the front hall and up the stairs. Everything was neat and tidy, untouched and dusty. I walked first to my sister’s room and opened the door. The once orange painted room was now painted white, filled only by a bed and a nightstand. The closet was empty. No more posters and string lights. I no longer recognized this room, which had once been filled by so many memories. I walked down the hall towards my parent’s room, the bed was all made up with the exception of a slight depression on the side of the bed where my dad slept. The dog bed that used to be at the end of my parent’s bed was gone.
When I finally reached my bedroom door, the handle was locked. I searched around for the key, one of those medal stick poke keys. I found one on the door frame of my sister’s bedroom. When I unlocked the door, I found my childhood bedroom, the walls still painted blue, covered in holes and scuff marks. There was my bed, in the same corner as before, along with my bookshelf. Only my bookshelf was empty, and next to it was a box simply labeled, “Monica”. Inside it were pictures of me, my paintings, my drawings, my books, my things. Everything that once represented me, confined to one box. My eyes began to well. Next to the box was the dog bed and all of her toys. I picked up one of her toys and whimpered softly.
“She died probably three years after you went missing. She had grown quite old” My dad stated from the doorway of my bedroom. Warm tears began rolling down my face.
“Where are all my things?”
“Your mother…she could hardly go in here. One day, she just took everything, and she threw it out. She packed up what she could in that box.” He took a second, as if to choose his words more carefully the next time around.
“We thought… you were dead… Monica.” He continued. “These past seven years have been hard on us, those first few years especially. If I’m honest... your mother died of a broken heart. This whole time…you were missing. You were gone. She didn’t know how to cope. I didn’t know how to cope. Your sister…And now…here you are.” He smiled a little when I looked up at him. “You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you.”
I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t comprehend what was happening to me.
“Look,” He stated. “I just got off the phone with your sister. She’s at her house getting things ready for a little birthday dinner we’re having. I didn’t tell her you were here. She’d think I’m crazy if I did…but you need to go see her. I’d be more than happy to take you over there. They’d love to see you.”
They?
My father was being modest with his words. His voice was shaking as he spoke. He was in as much disbelief as I was, but I knew he didn’t want to scare me any more than I already was. Any more than we already were. I wiped the tears from my face and smiled. I nodded and muttered, “Okay.”
We stood there silently another couple of minutes, then he leaned forward and hugged me once more. This time his stance was firm, and the hug was somewhat brief.
“I’ll grab my shoes.” He said, then turned to walk out the door of my childhood bedroom.
My dad thought it’d be best if I stayed outside first while he went in to tell my sister about everything, about me. It had been only a minute when I heard the screen door slowly creep open, a little bush of red hair popped out around the corner. Slowly the face of a little girl emerges from around the screen door. She had short red hair with bangs, all tangled up. Her skin was soft and pale with freckles all over and cheeks the size of watermelons on each side. Her itty-bitty teeth shown through a wide grin. I couldn’t believe it, I was looking at my sister, the way she looked when she was only a toddler. I fell to my knees. A deep profound hole was forming inside me. A void fueled by nostalgia and childhood memories.
She hopped over toward me, as if she were playing some imaginary game of hop-scotch which filled the distance between her and I.
“Hi, my name is Remi. What’s your name?” She said matter-of-factly.
I stared at her for a long while. Her gaze equally as intrigued as mine.
“Hi, Remi. My name is Monica…How old are you?” I was slow to speak. Nearly speechless altogether.
“I’m four” Then she proceeded to hold up four fingers on her hand.
Before I knew it, I was sobbing. I couldn’t control it. Her own four years only reiterated the seven years I had missed. Time passed without me. It didn’t wait seven years for me to catch up. It kept going and time moved forward.
Had I really been gone for seven years?
Still on my knees, level with her height, she put her arms around my neck, hugging me.
“Don’t cry, mommy says everything will be okay” She whispered softly into my ear.
Just then, I heard the door open and out came rushing my beautiful sister. My best friend, my love for her so deep and agape. There she was, her long red hair pulled back into a clip. Her face long and more structured than it had been in her youth. Her freckles peeking through around her deep grey eyes. Her body was slimmer now and more aged. Showing the age of a mother, an adult. My little sister, radiating in maturity and responsibility. There she was, my little sister, turning 25 today. I couldn’t believe it. I ran towards her, straight into her arms. There she was consoling me. Telling me that everything was okay now. I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breathe. I fell to the ground and brought her down with me. I couldn’t think.
How did I get here?
Everything was so different now. She had a little girl, a daughter. She was a mother. My mother was gone. My father was older. Everything was so different. Everything had changed. Everything except me.
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Mayra