Editor’s Note: This is an ongoing series which runs each Thursday morning titled the Richland Chronicles by author Paul Lintern. It is set in 1831 and tells the story of Richland County through the eyes of a young girl. 

The seagulls were calling from the wharf below. A salty breeze was drifting through the open windows, causing the thin linen drapes to billow like the tall-masted ships nearby.

Amelia could hear the wagon wheels against the cobblestone outside and the snort of horses pulling the merchants’ wares. A blacksmith was pounding on hot metal — tap, tap, tap — and sailors were yelling orders to each other as the tide called them to open seas.

In the next room, Amelia could hear the sound of her grandmother’s violin — Mozart, always Mozart — and someone somewhere was making eggs and ham, her favorite breakfast; she could tell by the sizzling sound.

Slowly she opened her eyes. There was her beautiful soft bed, the light blue canopy, the billowy downy pillows and the familiar warm silk comforter, white with red trim. The sky outside was as nice as any summer day on the coast, and the temperature was perfect for a June day in Boston.

Presently her mother arrived, bringing a tray with the food she had smelled earlier. A perfect yellow rose sat in the small crystal vase as Amelia sat up in bed.

“Good morning sunshine. You look well-rested,” her mother said.

“I love this bed,” Amelia said. “Especially when I get to sit in it and eat eggs and ham, with a biscuit and strawberry preserves.”

“Only the best for my baby,” she said. “Would you like me to read to you? I have Washington Irving. Would you like to hear about Rip Van Winkle?”

“I know that one. He goes into the woods, gets poisoned and falls asleep for 20 years, then wakes up and everything is different. Everyone is 20 years older, but he has not changed one bit, except he has a long beard. I love that story,” Amelia said.

“I wonder what it would be like to be asleep for 20 years,” she went on. “What would it be like if I went to sleep for 20 years and then woke up?”

“Your father and I would need you to wake up so you could take care of us in our old age,” her mother said, smiling. “And we would have to keep some fine young man waiting, so he could marry you.”

“I imagine Boston would be so big we would need some of those new railroad trains to get from one end to the other,” Amelia said. 

“And I bet there would be more states, maybe even 30,” her mother replied. “By then we might even have another President Adams.”

A moment later, Amelia’s father came into the room.

“How are you, pumpkin?” he said. “You look as beautiful as ever.”

“Thank you, Father. What a nice surprise, coming to my room. And you look wonderful for someone I haven’t seen in 20 years,” she said, as her mother smiled.

“Reading Rip Van Winkle again, are we,” he said. “No wonder I woke up feeling older this morning. Have you been gone 20 years already?”

“I wouldn’t leave you for 20 years, not even 20 minutes,” Amelia said. “I love my parents.”

“And we love you. Nothing will keep us apart,” her mother said. “Your father and I waited almost 20 years to have you. That was long enough.”

“Mother, father, what would your life have been like if I hadn’t been born?” Amelia asked.

“We don’t want to think about it,” her mother said. “You have made our life much richer, richer than we could ever have been. You are worth more than anything to us, worth more than, the state of Ohio.”

“What?” Amelia said.

“What, dear? We were telling you how much we love you.”

“But you just said, Ohio.”

“Ohio, why would we say Ohio?”

“Because you want me to go to Ohio.”

“Well, I do have that friend there, my childhood friend, Jacob,” Father said. “It would fun for you to spend the summer there, like a vacation, just running through the fields, riding horses, enjoying the beautiful scenery, learning the frontier ways,” her mother said.

“Yes, Jacob has a family there, including a daughter about your age. We had such fun, growing up together. He is quite the storyteller, adventurous, too. He would look after you well,” her father added.

“But isn’t it dangerous there,” Amelia asked. “No more than a trip across Massachusetts would be. You just have to know what to watch for, and do as the others around you do. You will be fine.”

“It sounds wonderful, Father, like going to Europe without the long boat ride.”

“Well, there is a boat ride, pumpkin, although not as long a boat ride, but otherwise it would be just like Europe,” her father said.

“Just without all the buildings, and boats and restaurants and artists and history and culture,” her mother smiled.

And both her father and mother laughed.

“I think Ohio would be nice, but I would miss you, and I don’t know what I would do if I never saw you again,” Amelia said. “Oh dear, of course you would miss us, and we would miss you greatly, but we would have to let you be in God’s hands, as you have been from the beginning. You are our miracle.”

“Then I had better go back,” Amelia said.

“Go back? Whatever do you mean, Sweetest?”

“Because that is where I am.”

“Sweetest, you are in Boston.”

“But only in my dreams, mother. I am actually in Ohio, and now, I think, I have to go back there. If I don’t go back, I doubt that I get to come back here.”

“I understand, dear. Go with God’s grace. He is the only reason we could send you to Ohio in the first place. Everything is up to Him.”

“Good-bye, mother. I will see you soon.”

“Good-bye, dear. We’ll be waiting for the news. Come back soon, Amelia,” her mother said.

“Yes, come back soon, Pumpkin,” her father said.

“Please come back, Amelia,” Peggy said.

“Come back, precious child,” Elizabeth said.

“God, please bring her back,” Jacob said.

“Amelia, Amelia, wake up,” Autumn said.

Amelia then heard the mourning doves and cardinals of Ohio, and opened her eyes for the first time in three days.