Mark Quay
Legacy Name: Mark Quay

A crimson flush had filled the sky, knowing nightfall was not far behind, the horses seemed to turn around of their own cognition. Upon returning to the farm, we quickly restocked the saddles and fed the horses. They appeared to be as tired as we were and settled into their stalls quickly. Venturing up to the house a faint headache was becoming a big more bothersome. I had been aware of it for some time through the day and anticipated it would have an early passing. Apparently this was not the case, the headache was quickly followed by nausea and each step seemed exhausting.

Paige had sensed my lagging behind.
"What is the matter?"

My response was trembling and weak, the orange glow of the sunset was an unwelcome glare, only intensifying the pain.
"I'm just not feeling so well, I will ask your mom for some Tylenol."

I picked up step and was quickly alongside Paige again as we breached the doorway. We both sat upon the mudroom bench to remove our boots and jackets. Paige's mother would surely have been overcome with "displeasure" at the first sign of mud in her home. I was able to find Mrs. Bramhall in the kitchen cooking our supper.

"Are you feeling okay? You are looking a bit pale."
I guess it was now quite apparent that I was progressively feeling worse, Mrs. Bramhall handed me some Tylenol and a glass of water; instructing me to go lie down until the food was ready.

The couch was quite comfortable but nothing seemed to ease the nausea, or the now full blown migraine headache. Paige was sitting nearby and was sure to ask me if I was in need of anything more to drink or if I was beginning to feel any better. Everyone was then called to dinner. Still feeling quite nauseated, I decided to refrain from eating. I had a history of migraine headaches and knew quite well that food would only push my nausea to the point of vomiting. Several times I had tried to call my parents to come and pick me up but each call went straight to the answering machine.

"Do you think it would be possible to give me a ride home?"
I felt bad for leaving early, Paige and I had so much planned to do yet; but she also understood I was not feeling well. Ms. Bramhall was very compassionate and wasted no time. We had quickly gathered up my things and began making the short trip down the road. It was already nighttime as we pulled into the farmhouse lane.
"Will you be okay to make it to the door?"
Paige's mother's concern was appreciated but not needed.

"I think I am okay, thanks for everything. I will see you on Monday Paige."
Paige and I exchanged a quick nod before the truck pulled away. The carport light was turned off. I found this unusual but considering how horrible I felt I didn't think too much of it. Opening the door, my expectation was to be bombarded by questions from concerned parents as to why I was home early. I had concluded they were simply busy at the barn when they were unable to answer my calls. An older neighbor lady was sitting in our living room.

I felt so horrible that I only had one question.
"Where is Dad?"

Her face was still and her voice was calm.
"Your mother said they had to go somewhere quick but they would be back soon."

I was almost certain that I could have pried more information from her, but all I wanted was to lay down in a cool and quiet place. Struggling to get out of my clothes, I managed to find a comfortable night shirt and crawl into bed. The migraine was immense, I twisted and turned unable to get any rest; constantly wondering as to the whereabouts of my father. My father was always the one to comfort me when I wasn't feeling well. Neither of my parents were home, yet for some reason all I could think about was the absence of my father.

I must have managed to fall asleep at some point, though the headache was far from gone.

"Em, wake up, I need to talk to you."
Waking up is never easy for me to do, much less when I am not feeling well. My mother was sitting at the side of my bed, gently holding my hand. Once again, only one question came to mind.
"Where is Dad?"

A moment of silence, something quite unusual for my mother. I was able to see the words behind her lips, I could see her searching...

Mark's hands were an orange tinge from the clay soil. He slowly created a shallow trough to which to place the tender new seeds. Planting too deep would hinder germination, too shallow and the lightest of rains would wash them away. The earth was still slightly damp from an early morning rain. The sun was casting a warm glow accompanied by a gentle October breeze. Padding the soil over the trenches, Mark slowly rose to his feet. The cool air filled his lungs as a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment filled his soul. Nothing was more tranquil for Mark, in that small garden he found his everyday serenity.

Daddy,
You are dearly missed and you are still a central part of my everyday life.
I love you and I miss you!
-Emily