The General’s Passing 1

The Generals Passing

From the window there came a distinct noise. She replaced her

bookmark and stood stretching before moving toward the sound. She

raised the window and peered out into the dimly lit street below. A

rhythmic sound echoed amidst the tall buildings. Down the street a unique

figure made his way along the sidewalk. With every exaggerated step the

man lunged forward with energy, giving the impression of a man climbing

over flat ground. Still far up the street, his acrobatic image was highly

visible, and audible. In his hand he carried a cane and with each stride he

accentuated his step by rapping it sharply on the hard sidewalk. Rap, rap,

rap! The continuous beat filled the concrete canyon with its methodic

repetition. She watched a while longer as the man walked by then

returned to her apartment leaving the window open, allowing the warm

summer breeze to enter and carrying the now diminishing sounds of the

evening walker.

She went to the kitchen and replaced her dishes neatly in the

cabinet above the counter. The kitchen in order, she turned and passed

through the empty apartment. In the dark she could faintly make out the

furniture as she made her way down the hall in the now silent night.

The next evening the sounds of the rapping cane again caught her

attention and the day after as well. Gradually she became more and more

aware of the man and his evening stroll. The weather remained hot and

each night about the same time the rapping sounds would find their way
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through the open window and into her apartment. More and more often

she would find herself going to the window to watch the man pass. His

unique stride and rapping cane separated him from the crowd

immediately. She could tell the elderly gentleman was tall and dignified.

Although advancing in years, his stride denoted strength and confidence.

At a good distance he could be distinguished marching with his distinctive

step straight down the center of the walk, never slowing, stopping or

deviating his route in any way.

One night she found herself sitting in her chair doing nothing and

realized that she was waiting, waiting for the walker to appear. Quietly,

hands folded in her lap; she sat near the open window. The evening

breeze had started and it lifted the sheer drapes lightly as it swept softly

into the room. The warm fresh air entered, caressing her bare skin,

soothing her mind, as she drifted near unconsciousness. Slowly as if

returning from another place, she became aware of the familiar rapping

and she sat up. She leaned forward and saw the gentleman striding past,

directly beneath.

He dressed in the same fashion each day. Green sweater atop

loose fitting trousers and a dark beret jauntily tilted aside his head. She

imagined his having served a prestigious military career and now marched

each evening out of the staunch discipline which he had been exposed to

for so long. It made sense to her that after his long service, now in

retirement, he needed an outlet for all his pent up energy. Staying about
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the house was not his style. He needed to be out and moving about,

involved in life. The rapping figure continued up the street, and she

watched him marching until he disappeared amidst the trees, the traffic

and the night, leaving her once again alone.

The next morning she rose and prepared to leave. Dressed casually

but smartly and with a handbag hooked on her arm, she locked the door as

she left. She stood waiting for the elevator very upright and proper,

fussing with her dress as she did so. As the elevator arrived, she stepped

in and selected the button with care. The cables whined as the elevator

slid quickly down the shaft, stopping smoothly at the bottom. The doors

opened to a brightly lit lobby bustling with activity on all sides. Walking

through the lobby with an air of grandeur, she exited the building and

joined the masses on the sidewalk. People moved up and down engrossed

in their own worlds. They seemed to navigate without effort the moving

mosaic of foot traffic. The little woman was absorbed and she flowed

along with her head up, enjoying the excitement she felt being part of the

city. Today life crept back where it had long ago left. She carried out her

errands with a sense of enthusiasm that she imagined few other

pedestrians felt.

Later in the day she sat in front of a mirror with a comb. Long

strokes brushed the hair back from her face. The image in the mirror

seemed foreign – mascara and rouge applied with care on features long

neglected. A twinkle in her eye perhaps.

 The General’s Passing 4

Music soft and low filled the air as she glided from room to room

in preparation. The table was set for tea with special cookies and a lace

table cloth beneath sparkling fine china placed and spread carefully. She

dressed, humming with the tunes that seemed to be talking to her alone.

From a fine jewelry box she cautiously lifted a string of pearls and placed

them regally around her neck. She admired herself a moment and then

went to the living room to assure herself that all was done. As she

checked the clock a slight thrill sent shivers over her body and moving to

the window, she sat, prepared to wait.

From down the street the familiar rapping sound preceded his

arrival. It came to her and she tried to steady her nerve. She rose,

crossing the room, gathering her things from the hall table. Her hand

reached for the knob and, as she touched the cold brass handle, she froze.

She lost her momentum. She stopped.

In her mind she left the room to meet the gentleman below, held a

conversation and eventually invited him up for tea. But the reality was

that she wouldn’t. She had neither the grace or the confidence to pull it

off. She was just an old fool living in a dream world. How utterly

ridiculous she felt standing in her finest cloths with a setting for two on the

table without having the nerve to proceed. She had let her imagination get

the best of her. There would be no meeting, no enchanted rendezvous at

her table over tea, none of that. The rhythmic tapping mocked her at the

door. Frozen with her hand on the knob an eternity seemed to elapse.
 The General’s Passing 5

Then she released the knob and crossed the room to close the window.

The evening breeze met her there and she felt it touching her as she closed

the window slowly without looking out. The sound ceased.

As she undressed later, she wondered at herself. She had

envisioned meeting him in front of the building and walking along beside

him until a chance to speak arose. That they would immediately find so

much to say, that somehow she would find a way to invite him up, that

this would be natural and somehow he would accept, and if not this time

the next. What had she been thinking? Had she lost her mind? She

wouldn’t be able to pull it off. She laughed out loud at her foolishness and

wondered of her sanity. In her robe she replaced the china and put away

the treats she had purchased. In bed she determined to see a professional

about herself and went to sleep after awhile.

Days passed and she found herself coming out of a fog she did

not remember entering. Her daily rituals started to fall back into place

with the boredom that accompanied them. She began to feel she

understood a little of what happened to her mind. Someone had stood

out to her and she felt a need to make contact. The isolation that created

the need had also caused her inability to follow through with it. Without

speaking to anyone for days on end she had lost her confidence in her

ability to communicate. She weighed it all out and felt she could deal

with being foolish. To let it get that far and then not being capable of

even trying was humiliating, but something she could live with.
 The General’s Passing 6

She had stopped toying with the idea and settled back into her little

life. The rapping sounds still found their way through the window into her

apartment and occasionally she would glance down at the figure passing

below, but sometimes not. It all became a daily event of little

consequence. She felt an intimacy with the figure she did not know, be it

from afar.

Then one day she noticed that the sound did not rise to enter her

window. At first she thought she might have let it slip by without notice,

which was a reasonable explanation. She wasn’t sure the last time she had

heard his passing. Was it a day or two? She began to wonder a little. The

next day she opened the window wide. The man did not appear. She

knew now that he was no longer on his usual schedule and she began to

imagine things that may have happened to him. At first she allowed

herself to accept that he was probably tired of his routine and found a new

route or activity but, before long, she began to mourn him a little. She felt

a loss.

A month or so passed, and she had not considered the matter for a

time. She spent her days as before, milling about the apartment with little

to do. The cool chill of autumn now filled the air. Windows were closed

and the evening breeze was not as welcome as it had been.

Sitting in her chair reading one night, she heard an unusual

noise. It seemed to be on the wind at first and she dismissed it, then

something else. She went to the window and stood a moment

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listening. Then it came again. This time it came clear, a thumping

sound for sure, but without a rhythm, just a single rap followed by

another out of time, then another.

She opened the window and the cold night air swept in, causing

her to pull back. The sound still came in spurts. She leaned out to see.

The sound was similar but not just right. She winced in the cold air and

strained to extend as far out as she possibly could. The wind knifed

through her blouse, cold and biting. Fully extended her quickly freezing

fingers clung to the sill, trying to hold her precariously balancing body

form plummeting to the sidewalk below. The sound came again. Her grip

slipped but she caught herself, then more determined than ever, she

dismissed caution and hung as far out as possible. The freezing wind

numbed her body, the feeling left her hands. And as she teetered above

the abyss, way down on the corner, she could just make out a group of

boys. It seemed that one perhaps had a bat or a stick, and she realized all

at once what was happening.

In the middle of the night, in a freezing wind, she hung by a

whisker knowing it was over. The surrender was complete now. In an

instant all shrouded hope vanished. Mentally and physically defeated she

retreated back into the apartment, closing the window against the cold.

The End