Chapter 1
Edward Lewis Moll Jr.
August 15th, 1994 3 a.m. I was tucked into bed. I had just fallen asleep a few hours earlier. It was the first day of school, my sophomore year of High School. Donita, my older sister, was sick. This wasn’t good for me you see as this would mean no ride home. Instead I would take the bus. I hadn’t taken the bus since 5th grade. I was terrified. Sleep did not come easy to me that night so being awoke at 3 a.m. was not what I needed.
My sister stood in my room screaming. Screaming. The light from the hallway blinded me from behind her. “What’s wrong?” She simply said “Nothing. Go back to bed.”
Let’s pause for a moment. 3 a.m. Screaming. Blinding light. Screaming. And yes, of course, go back to bed. I’ll just roll over and cuddle up to Wrinkles, my stuffed dog I received on my 7th birthday, and I’ll go back to bed. Now, years later my sister and I giggle when we recall that moment of confusion. Go back to bed? No way.
I lay there as she ran back down the hallway. More accurately I froze. In times of crisis or high stress I freeze. I recall two moments of my youth. The first found me standing near our couch while my Father rested in his chair. My Mom, Sister and Brother (Joe) were outside enjoying the evening. Suddenly the back door slid open and my brother was screaming something about a UFO. My Mom followed close behind agreeing with him and begging my Father and I to come see. I froze. I did not move. My Father had to basically carry me outside, his body shaking with laughter at the thought of a UFO. As we looked in the sky and saw the ball of lights slowly coming at us I froze for the second time that night. Several minutes passed in a blur while I stood motionless. A UFO coming to land in our yard. Aliens descending upon our family with the intention of taking over the world. Our UFO turned out to be the Good Year Blimp.
A few years after that my parents were in the kitchen when there was a loud bang followed by a thump. My mother started to scream. Donita and Joe flew into the kitchen while I stood in the middle of the living room. Frozen yet again. My Father had dropped an ice cube and had bent down to retrieve it. As he stood he caught his head on the freezer door and down he went. It took me at least 15 minutes to move and see if he was okay.
In times of crisis I freeze.
I lay in my bed that morning and listened. So many voices. Screaming. Crying. Sobbing. Begging. Pleading.
Keisha.
Keisha was dead. I knew it. My sweet puppy we had gotten less than a year before had somehow died during the night. The dog I had vowed to hate and yet fallen in love with the moment I saw her, was no longer with us.
Our family dog, Brandy, had died in the middle of my Freshman year of high school. He was my best friend. Pathetic? Not to me. I would sit on the diving board in the back yard and cry my heart out from whatever problem was haunting my young life. Brandy would stand with his little paws next to me and listen as I wailed. Then when the tears would dry we would race to the back porch. The loser was the first to cross the porch. Some days he would skid to a halt before he crossed the line leaving me to get there first. I would turn and look at him and he would bark happily. Other times I would pretend to jump over the “finish” line and then suddenly stop. He would turn and bark at me, running in circles, clearly unhappy he had lost. He was my best friend.
The day he died my sister and I came home from school, it was a Monday afternoon. We had just arrived home the day before from a trip to Prescott. As soon as we pull in the driveway from a trip I run immediately to the backyard to play with my best friend. This trip however we arrived late and it was RIGHT to bed for me. No dog. No love. The next morning we were running behind and I waved through the back door before heading off to school. So that afternoon I was more than excited to see him. I called my Mother to let her know we were home safe as I pounded on the backdoor to get Brandy’s attention. He lay on the cool deck sunning himself. I banged. He tanned. I banged again. He continued to lay there. I banged again. No movement. It was then I realized my best friend was gone. I remember greeting my brother in the front of the house and telling him, weeping to him, that Brandy was gone. His reply I will never forget “Not to sound mean or anything, but now we can get a big dog.”
Enter Keisha. An Akita. She was beautiful. She was soft. Brown and white fur. White paws. White tip on her curling tail. Oversized ears and paws for such a small puppy. I loved her instantly. But faithful to Brandy I ignored her. For all of 10 minutes.
And now she was gone. I knew it. I mourned. I froze. I listened.
Joe was crying. It was loud and heartbreaking. To hear a young boy cry is gut wrenching. I could hear Donita. I don’t remember if she was crying or screaming. I heard Mom shouting. “Don’t leave me. Don’t do this. Damn it get up.” And I heard Keisha barking. Wait. Keisha? I sat up. She was here! She wasn’t gone. My beloved friend. Partner in crime. The sweet pet who slept on the floor next to my bed. The family dog who was truly Man’s best friend and was loyal to my Father who treated her better than his children at times, was alive. I nearly leapt from the bed with excitement.
Then it hit me.
Joe was crying. Donita was screaming. Keisha was barking. And Mom was yelling
“Don’t leave me. Don’t do this. Damn it get up.”
Something was wrong.
Something was terribly wrong.
Something was missing.
Someone was missing
August 15th, 1994 3 a.m. The day my Father died.
Edward L. Moll, JR.
Born
August 21, 1943
Entered into Rest
August 15, 1994
FOOTPRINTS
“One night I dreamed I was walking
along the beach with the Lord. Many
scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
Sometimes there were two sets of
Footprints, other times there was only one.
“This bothered me because I noted
that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from anguish,
sorrow or defeat, I could see only
one set of footprints, so I said
to the Lord, “You promised me, Lord,
that if I followed you, you would walk
with me always. But I have noticed
that during the most trying periods of my
life there has been only one set of
footprints in the sand. Why, when I
have needed you most, have you not
been there with me?”
“The Lord replied, “During your
times of trial and suffering, when
you see only one set of footprints,
it was then that I carried you.’”
It's Time to Run 