the visit

I’ve been visited twice in the night.
Some things I can remember distinctly, and others parts are vague and broken bits of memory.

One night, many years ago – I guess I was ten years old – I dreamt that a spaceship landed on the far side of the woods across the road from our house. I watched as the huge ship hovered for a moment, then settled down in the shadows beyond the trees. A solitary visitor, in a silver suit, appeared out of the woods and walked over and stood in our front yard. As I stood on my pillow and peered out of my bedroom window he motioned for me to come out into the still night. He looked human and friendly enough, so I grabbed my ever-trusty Batman flashlight and ventured out into the damp night.

"I'm ten."
“Hello, ten, you looked troubled,” he said, with a gentle smile.
His face was olive colored, and his deep-set eyes were black.
“I’m not like the others,” I said. “I don’t fit in,” I mumbled, as I felt the wet grass like sand was squishing between my toes.

After a short exchange, the words now are a little vague, I felt comforted and elated – yes, buoyant.

“You’re welcome to come back with us,” he said warmly.
“I better not. Dad and Mom will be mad at me. I better go back in.”
He nodded and seemed to understand, but frowned with a long slim finger at his lips.
“If you want, the moon is yours, my friend,” he offered.

I had a genuine affection for the visitor. I was scared but I never questioned his purpose for seeking me out.

He patted my head, smiled, and turned back towards the woods. I made it back into the house just as the fire from the jets lifted the thundering rocket skywards. There was a fleeting moment where I'd changed my mind wanting to go, shining my flashlight out the bedroom window, hoping he'd catch that hundred and eighty six thousand miles per second blue beam before he was too far gone.

A few moments later I woke and looked out my bedroom window into the moon-less night. There was nothing except a strange, rat-tat-tat and swishing sound. I slammed the window and ducked under the covers, scared and shivering.

In the morning I saw what the sound was – our next door neighbor left his water sprinkler on all night.

And then he returned.

It was August, 1975. I had just turned 17 and it was the summer before my senior year in high school. I was sitting on our front porch in the early evening, dressed in a suit with my tie loosened and the top button unfastened. I was exhausted from a trying day – back from my dad’s funeral. The house was full of relatives but I needed to be by myself, so I settled down into a chair at the far end of the porch and drifted away.

“You remember?” my friend asked soothingly.
“Yes. But I still can’t go. Not yet,” I replied. “My mom….,” I started.

He laid his hand on my shoulder and sighed wistfully. He looked the same as years before, but this time it seemed like I could see deeper into his shining eyes. They were familiar and far less haunting than I would’ve expected. I looked to my left through the same woods that I had played in as a child, although back then they seemed deep as a black forest, and could see the multi-colored lights spinning at the base of the craft. I felt a chilled and a tingling sensation throughout my body.

“Ah, well, you’re time will come,” he said assuredly.
I turned towards his voice to ask him something but he was gone.

My beloved Aunt Doris was sitting next to me as I awoke, and she softly kissed me and took my hand in hers. We were always so close that we could sit in silence together knowing what the other was feeling inside. She was a little woman, pale skinned, but with a big heart and a kind, sweet, knowing smile. Just like your aunt is supposed to be.

“You haven’t eaten. Can I fix you something?” she asked quietly.
I started to cry.

==

Sometimes, late into the night, I’ll just stand outside looking up, scanning the sky to both purple horizons, hoping that maybe on this evening I’ll be lucky enough to dream of another visit. I feel so out of place in this world, like I was meant for another galaxy – or somewhere else in time for that matter – and that on the next visit I will definitely climb aboard.