Five Minutes (Story)

"Five minutes," the aide says. She can't remember his name. She does have five of them after all.
It starts with a "B" ....He's from Buffalo...Buffalo...Brian...Brian from Buffalo
"Thank you Brian," she nods. She starts to gather her papers and in her mind she hears the whistle from the 6:10 a.m. Amtrak back home in Castleton. She smells green grass and feels it cold and crisp between her toes. She can hear crickets and the churning of the ice cream maker. Suddenly, she realizes just how much she doesn't want to do this.

Someone hands her a compact mirror and she worries that she is shaking on the outside as much as she is on the inside. As she reapplies her lipstick she looks at herself and wonders when it was that Betsy became Elizabeth, the woman who looks back at her now. She certainly doesn't remember that happening, but the pony tail and overalls are gone, replaced by a stylish twist at the nape of her neck and a gray dress suit. Betsy was lost somewhere in the 4.0 grade point average and the summa cum laude she had beside her name when she graduated from law school. Maybe, she thinks, if she turns and runs very fast she can not only go home, but find the girl she used to be. At night she dreams of home. She wakes up with the feel of soft warm dirt between her fingers and smelling the yellow daffodils she and her mother planted every year.

"We're ready to go," Brian says and she straightens her jacket. While she is fastening her briefcase, she is thinking of Windy Acre Farms where the family used to go every year to pick out their pumpkins on Halloween. Brian opens the door for her and with each resounding step of her high heels; another thought of home comes to her. There is the smell of fresh vegetables and the sound of the blue grass band from Saturday mornings at the Farmer's Market. She sees the sun cascading through the stained glass windows casting red and green shadows on the pews at church. She doesn't smell the fresh carpet smell of the building, but instead smells the scent of the saw mill, like a Christmas tree and a cedar chest put together.
"Just a few more minutes mam. I'll get your desk ready," Brian says and she sits on a bench outside the large wooden doors. The noise from inside frightens her.

She closes her eyes, and another memory sweeps her away. She was sixteen years old, and it was at the town celebration at the park. There had been games for the children. Josie Parker was selling her homemade kettle corn. Mr. Allen, the music teacher at the high school, was in a dunk tank and the mayor had on a large red apron and was barbequing hot dogs and hamburgers. It had been a lovely day. They were celebrating the opening of the town's new women's shelter. It was a beautiful building, with a day care and a job service. People had donated time, money, and personal belongings to the shelter and there was a large crowd at its opening. It’s the speech the mayor gave that comes to her mind now.
"When I first was told about the idea of this woman's shelter, I admit I had doubts. I thought, it's too much for our town, we don't have resources, we don't have the money, it's impossible....and then I remembered where I live, and who we are...what we are, as members of this community and I felt I had to apologize to God and to you. I will never doubt that again."

His words replay in her mind and she remembers the thrill she felt when he said them. They had needed a shelter, and so together they had built a shelter. Lost in her thoughts, she accidently knocks her briefcase over with her foot. She bends down to pick up some papers that fell out of the side pocket and sees a paperback book tucked in the back. She takes it out with curiosity. It is a copy of one of her favorite books, The Lord of the Rings, and there is a sticky note attached to one of the pages. She opens it up and there is a highlighted passage on the page.
"I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable; I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again."
She bites her lower lip and then reads the familiar writing on the sticky note.
"Betsy, Frodo had a work to do and so do you. Go to work, knowing you have a firm foothold. Love, Dad."
She places the book against her heart and it is then that she makes the decision. She will be Elizabeth. She will do this for the people at Windy Acre Farms who lost their farm because they couldn't make the mortgage payments. She will do this for the 200 men who were laid-off at the saw mill because of federally mandated budget cuts and for the children who will never have Mr. Allen for a music teacher because music programs were cut at the high school.
The doors open and Brian steps out, “They're about to start Congresswoman. Your desk is all ready for you."
"Thank you Brian," she says and remembering what she is because of where she came from, Congresswoman Elizabeth Walker steps onto the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives.
When they call her name for roll call, she can still hear the sound of the train whistle but she is no longer shaking.