Maybe Tomorrow

Maybe Tomorrow
(18/11/05)

It was almost dusk and the sky was turning from light blue to a pinkish-orange colour. The residents of Semica Valley could still be seen hanging around their neighbourhood; the adults were talking to each other while their kids were running around playing.

At one of the houses, Ivy Taylor sat on her porch, watching the scene around her. She smiled as she watched the neighbourhood children playing in their lawns. A series of shouts and yells caught her attention and she turned to see a group of boys coming home from their fishing at Semica Pond. The boys were proudly holding up their catches as they paraded down the road. Some of the adults even applauded at them and Mr. Rigley, the local fish-monger, jokingly shout out offers for the fishes.

When the boys were passing Ivy, they each looked up and smiled at her while proudly waving their fishes. The group stopped and one of the boys walked towards her, a big trout in his hand.

“Here’s a fish we caught for you,” the boy smiled toothily, gesturing to the fish.

“Why, thank you, Alan.” Ivy smiled. She held the fish while Alan laid his handkerchief on her lap to prevent the fish from dirtying her skirt.

“Your welcome,” Alan replied and ran back to his buddies.

The group continued on their parade to their houses and waved as they went. Ivy waved back and settled in her chair, the smell of fish filling her nostrils.

She continued to watch the neighbourhood and noticed a group of girls playing in the lawn opposite her. They were dancing to the music that came out from a small radio. A few of them were sitting on the lawn and weaving flowers into a lei or wreath. They must have picked the basket of flowers from the meadow opposite Semica Pond.

A little girl about five years old was weaving her daisies into a lei. Finished, she looked at her creation and smiled proudly, nodding her head in satisfaction. The girl glanced around and caught Ivy’s stare.

She stood up and began walking quickly towards Ivy’s porch, holding her lei carefully so it wouldn’t broke. Standing in front of Ivy, she gave her a cute smile and showed her lei.

“It’s very pretty, Felicia,” Ivy smiled at the little girl.

“And I made it all by myself,” Felicia said proudly. “I want you to have it.” Felicia reached up and put the lei over Ivy’s head, letting it hang as a flower necklace.

“Thank you very much.”

One of the dancing girls saw Felicia with Ivy and she ran over, picking up a basket of flowers on the way.

“Hi, Ivy,” Miranda, Felicia’s older sister greeted her. “Here’s a basket of flowers we picked in the meadow. It has all your favourites; daisies and forget-me-nots.”

“Thank you, Miranda,” Ivy smiled. Miranda returned the smile and laid the basket on the porch beside Ivy’s chair. Turning to her sister, she said,” “Let’s go home, Felicia. It’s already dusk and Mom is waiting for us.”

“Bye, Ivy,” Felicia waved as she ran to catch up with her sister.

The girls on the opposite lawn got up as well and waved goodbye to Ivy as they walked off. Ivy waved back and smiled wistfully as she watched them.

The adults were already gathering up their children or calling for them to come inside. Ivy watched as a couple of kids ran into her yard and climbed up her apple tree. Their faces peeked out at Ivy and they giggled at her. Then they put their fingers to their mouth for the international quiet sign. Ivy was about to nod at them when she heard a voice calling out.

“John. Sarah. Come on out. You have to take your bath now.”

It was Mrs. Johnson calling out for her mischievous twins. The twins disappeared everyday just as dusk came to escape from their bath, forcing their mother to come search for them. They hid in different yards and trees each time and everyday the neighbours could see Mrs. Johnson going around, calling out for them. The neighbours would always give a hint to her about her twins’ whereabouts and watched to see if she could find them. It was practically a tradition in Semica Valley. Mrs. Johnson was an easygoing person, who enjoyed a good joke and didn’t mind being the evening entertainment.

“Oh, Ivy,” Mrs. Johnson greeted her when she saw her. “Have you seen my twins?”

Ivy smiled at her and turned her head slightly to her apple tree. Mrs. Johnson caught the hint and grinned, going off to catch the rascals. The twins giggled as their mother bribed, threatened and pled them to come down. Eventually, she got them down and began hurrying them home.

“Thanks, Ivy. Oh, I’ll be baking apple pies tomorrow and I’ll send the twins over with one. Be sure to tell me if you get it. The last time I sent the twins over with a pie, they ate it all up.”

“Okay, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Bye-bye, Ivy,” the twins yelled in unison as they hurried for home.

Dusk was settling and the residents of Semica Valley hurried home to their families. Tomorrow would be another busy day for the working parents and the school children but the late afternoon and evening would always be the time of liveliness and togetherness.

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to join them,” Ivy thought to herself. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to go fishing with the boys or walk to Semica Pond. Maybe tomorrow I can pick flowers at the meadow with the girls or dance with them to the music. Maybe tomorrow I can climb trees with the Johnson twins.”

Ivy was snapped out from her daydream by a figure walking towards her porch. Her face broke out into a big smile and she held her hands out for a hug.

“Daddy,” Ivy called out as he leaned down and gave her a hug.

“Hello, pumpkin,” Mr. Taylor greeted her with his own smile. He carried her out from her chair and swung her around the porch. Ivy squealed with laughter and her father joined in, their laughter filling the evening.

Putting her back down into the chair, he held out a small basket of oranges. “I picked these from the orchard. I know that they’re your favourite fruit.”

“Oh, thank you, Daddy.”

The porch door opened and Mrs. Taylor came out, giving a smile and a hug to both her husband and daughter.

“It’s time for your bath, Ivy,” her mother told her.

“Yes, Mom,” Ivy said. She looked up at her parents and asked, “Mom, Dad, when will I be able to play with the rest of the children? When can I join in their activities?”

Mr. And Mrs. Taylor looked at each other, their faces saddening. Mr. Taylor knelt down in front of Ivy and said, “Soon, Ivy, soon.”

“But when, Daddy?” she asked calmly, her face full of sweet innocence.

“Maybe tomorrow, honey,” Mrs. Taylor answered, smoothing back her daughter’s bangs from her forehead. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Ivy seemed satisfied with the answer and sat back in her chair with a wistful smile. Her parents looked at each other again and tears formed at the corner of Mrs. Taylor’s eyes. Mr. Taylor turned Ivy’s wheelchair around and pushed her into the house while Mrs. Taylor brought in the baskets of oranges and flowers.

Ivy hadn’t been able to walk ever since she got hit by a car at the age of five. She was riding her tricycle on the sidewalk of the house when a drunkard lost control of his car and drove onto the sidewalk, hitting Ivy in the process. That had been four years ago and Ivy still couldn’t walk, even with all the therapy and hospitals she has been sent to.

She was confined to a wheelchair ever since she got out from the hospital and was unable to play and take walks like the other neighbourhood children, but she had never once complained. Everyday, she sat on her porch and watched the scene around her. Everyday, she hoped that she could join them the next day. Everyday, she asked her parents when she could walk. And everyday, they would answer, “Soon. Maybe tomorrow.”

And Ivy still waited for the day when ‘tomorrow’ will come. The day when she could walk again.

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