The Elephant that Forgot

Mrs. McGillicuddy was the only one who saw Rosie wandering down Route 50 at two in the morning, but because Mrs. McGillicuddy had watched elephants roam the huge ranch for 40 years, and because Mrs. McGillicuddy was very old and prone to confusions of time and space, she failed to notice that Rosie was no longer on the ranch.

Earlier that evening, Rosie had eaten her dinner and wandered off to bed after bidding the other elephants in her shed good evening. The others had been especially kind to her that day, and they had all made it a point to nuzzle her with their trunks as she ambled away.

Some time later, Rosie awoke to find that she had forgotten almost everything.

Elephants are known for their memories. It is said that they never forget, and while this is mostly true, there comes a time in every elephant’s life when the force of a single memory drives all other memories away. Rosie, at 52, had reached that time.

The moment when an elephant forgets everything is bittersweet. On the one hand, Rosie had forgotten the cruelties suffered through the years, the mistreatment (intentional and otherwise), the loved ones who had passed before her. She had forgotten the horror of seeing her great love, Boris, a magnificent bull, killed by a lightning bolt as he worked to raise a tent.

On the other hand, she had also forgotten all of the joys in her life: the good humans she encountered, the smiles of children, and conceiving (with Boris) her beloved calves. She had forgotten the joy with which she was taken from the circus and brought to live on the ranch, and the pleasure of discovering old friends already living there. But at the moment, because Rosie had forgotten everything except one special memory, she wasn’t even aware that she had forgotten anything.

She only remembered a place she needed to go.

Rosie had never been to this place, had never heard it mentioned, and didn’t know what it looked like. She only knew where it was and that she needed to go there. You see, this memory wasn’t hers at all. It was the memory of all elephants, of every elephant that had ever lived, and of every elephant that would ever die.

So Rosie walked in the direction her memory told her to go. She walked for many hours and covered many miles. And, finally, just before dawn, she came to a beach.

Rosie stood on the beach, staring out across the water, staring toward that place she needed to go. How deep was the water? How wide? She knew the place she needed to go was beyond the water, but how far?

Rosie walked on. She walked until the water lapped at her belly, but she still couldn’t see the place she needed to go. She walked until she had to hold her trunk high above her head to breathe, until the salty water stung her eyes and muffled the sounds in her ears. Rosie walked until she could walk no more, and then she let the water carry her as her legs continued walking.

And finally, Rosie slipped away beneath the waves, and she remembered everything. Everything, that is, except how she had come to this place, this wonderful place, where all of her old friends had gathered to welcome her. And after a moment or two, when she saw Boris ambling toward her, holding his trunk high in greeting, she forgot that she had ever been anywhere else.

Mahalo

©2002, Brian G Parker