But I had the knowledge of an old lady who’d seen it all.
I’d watched as my parents suffered through the aging process and became old and fragile. Mother had died in my arms, and Father, growing increasingly frail for several years now, was clearly not long for this world. While his body weakened, his mind filled with more and more worry for me.
“Daughter.” Father's feeble voice called from his bedroom.
I jumped back from my inspection. He so seldom called for me, or asked anything of me. What if he were ill? Panic consumed my body like flames. The day I lost him…well, for now I was barely hanging on. But when that day came…
I raced to his side and dropped to my knees. “Yes?”
His eyelashes fluttered as his eyes opened to mine. “Oh, dear girl. I'm glad you came.” He inched his body upright, then lifted his legs out of bed and placed them on the floor. He stood easily and straightened his back.
“Well, you look like you're feeling much better.” A far cry from what I’d expected when I walked into the bedroom.
“How could anyone feel poorly on a day such as this?” Father gestured toward the window. “Let's walk outside, shall we?”
We strolled through the garden in more of a back-and-forth shuffle than a long and winding stroll due to the size of the garden. Father clenched my hand in his. “I know I've told you of the days I spent at my grandparents' castle in Paradise Valley. Deep in the mountains, that castle stood like a beacon to heaven.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, a castle. It had to be like most things seen by a small child. They appeared bigger and grander to the wondrous eyes of a boy. Then in adulthood they shrank to match reality and their real size was a shock. Surely Father had lived in a large country home in the woods as a small child, not a palatial castle with a moat in Paradise Valley as he had always described. But it would do no good to challenge his story. Let him believe as he wished.
“The most enticing part of the castle was the tower.” Father continued his wandering, but dropped my hand as he gazed up at the sky. “Have I ever told you of the tower?”
I nodded. I could recite the description if I’d wanted to, but there was no way I’d silence his words.
He gazed into the clouds and smiled. “The peak of this tower was so high that it took me several years of visiting Grandfather and Grandmother before I was willing to venture up the stairs.”
Was he talking about a turret? That had to be it. A small turret on an old house would look like a tower to a tiny boy. I stooped to pluck a weed from among the cabbage.
“You know that tower was so tall I could walk for miles and miles and still see it poking up from among the trees. I used to try to outrun it, just to see if I could. But in an entire day's journey, I couldn't escape the sight of the tower. Not that I ever truly wanted to.” He chuckled. “Then finally, I somehow developed some confidence. I knew when I returned the next summer, the tower was mine. I knew I was ready to face my fears and climb the steps. So, I did.” Father reached for my hand again and squeezed it.
I looked up at him and smiled. He knew how well I knew the story. But still I prompted him. “What was it like?” One day, I would cherish these minutes as I looked back at the time I had with my father—moments when he shared his memories and his dreams. Moments we walked hand-in-hand as he lurched toward his eternity, and I stayed firmly planted in mine.
“What was it like? Well, my daughter, I have to be honest with you. I was shaking from fear.” He stopped walking and closed his eyes as though he wanted a better view of his memories. “I reached the spot by the spiral staircase that would take me to the top of the tower and put one foot on the first stone step. I knew the first one would be the hardest, but I had no idea I would be paralyzed with terror as I tried to force my body up the stairs. But desire won out over fear, and I made my body obey. One step after the other.” His eyes darted behind his eyelids as though he followed that little boy’s journey in real time.
I reached the edge of the grapevines and turned to face the cottage for the return walk.
“Rapunzel.” Father stopped moving. I dropped my hands and looked up at him.
“Yes?” He was about to say something important. It was evident by the creases at the corners of his eyes.
“We're moving there.”
I stumbled backwards as if pushed by his words. Moving there? To the castle? “Father…” I had to get my thoughts together. I had to make sense of this and get Father to see that it was a mistake to uproot and move to the castle now. What was the point? We couldn't leave our home. It would be like giving up.