the Saturday Breakfast Serial-The Desk-Final Chapter

Well, at last we come to the final chapter of The Desk.  If you're new to this feature, or if you just need a recap, you can read all the previous chapters before coming back here to read part 8.

The Desk - Final Chapter

        I put my hand out, and cautiously opened the small drawer inside the desk.  I pulled out the packet and set it on the desk in front of me.  I was remembering what the journal had indicated about the herbs.  There was nothing here that would harm me.  And the words came back into my mind, “There is wisdom of a sort if you will allow the consciousness of those plants to speak to you.”   What did that mean? 

        I had been sitting with the herb packet for 5 minutes and hadn’t felt any strange reactions, so I took the next step, which was to carefully unwrap the packet.  The paper was thick, but soft.  Obviously handmade and it was intricately wrapped and folded around the herbs to make a secure bundle.  There was no fastener.  Only the folds in the paper tucked in on themselves.  Once I discovered the trick to unwrapping it, without tearing the paper, I was able to expose the contents.  The herbs lay in their little paper nest, and again I waited.  I could smell a faint aroma, which seemed to grow stronger within a few minutes.

        I stood up and walked a few steps from the desk.  I wanted to think.  I realized I was more than a little afraid of what might happen.  I began to pace.  Walking helped me to work through my nervous energy and calm my thoughts.

        What does it mean, to allow the consciousness of the plants to speak to me?  I wondered.  I stood a short distance from the packet on the desk and gazed at the mixture of herbs and flowers.  The fragrance seemed to grow stronger, and I felt a memory opening up.  I remembered drinking this tea.  “Oh, it’s tea,” I said aloud.  And I was certain I had loved this tea.  I picked up the packet taking great care not to spill any, and carried it into the kitchen.

        I carefully measured out a small portion of the tea into a small teapot, while the water boiled on the stove.  I sat at the kitchen table while it steeped and poured a tiny cup after a few minutes.  Holding  the cup in both my hands I brought my face close and breathed deeply the fragrant steam.  I took a tiny sip and the memories came flooding back as a door in my mind unlocked and opened up to show me visions of the past.

        I had been the writer of the journal.  The contents of the desk had belonged to me.  I had taken a trip through Europe and after, was scheduled to meet up with a group of scientists in central Asia.  I had been a botanist and part of an expedition to catalogue the plants of the mountain region in Pakistan.  The herbs had been given to me by a holy man we had found living alone in the mountains.  He was a wise man and a healer, and had shared his knowledge freely with me about many of the plants in the region.

        I had wanted to stay.  There was years of work that could’ve been done, but there was unrest in that part of the world, and we were ordered back home.  None of us wanted to go.

        All of these memories surfaced in rapid succession, like watching a movie montage.  I put the cup on the table.  Now I understood why I had lost those two hours.  My mind had not yet been ready to remember, and so it had gone blank.  

        I took another sip of the tea.  I had much to sift through in my memory, and I looked forward to reading the packet of letters tucked away in the desk.

The End

Thanks for reading The Desk on the Saturday Breakfast Serial.  Check back next Saturday.  I haven't decided if I will start a new serialized story or if I'll take a break from it for now.  Let me know your thoughts.