Meet Sage Wilson

                                                     




Throwing her purse and suitcase on the bed, the young girl sat down in the midst of her mess, intending to make  a plan for her life. She was a list maker, always mapping out an idea. This idea had to be good.

First things first she thought dumping her purse on the bed.  She sat there for a minute holding her wallet, counting the money inside. A little over $500 and a Visa  credit card. Not much money for an expensive city like Atlanta.  She would have to get a job and soon. 

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at her driver's license. She had always hated her name, 'Sage' Wilson, until her mother told her the reason why she had picked that name.

One day when Sage was about 8 years old, she ran home from school mad as hell.  Slamming the front door, throwing her backpack on the floor while yelling for her mom.

The kids were making fun of her name, saying she had been named after a 'weed'.  Telling her it wasn't a real persons name, it was a spice.  One little girl had the nerve to say, "That's what my mama puts in our Thanksgiving dressing--sage". Another little boy picked up the bulling and teasing saying, "Naw my mom  puts the sage up the turkey's butt."  That is when Sage hit him and took off running for home.

  Sage had both her hands on her hips, biting her lip and trying not to cry.  As soon as she saw her mama, the tears slipped slowly from her grayish green eyes. She was so mad she shook.

Sage's mother dried her tears, while she pulled Sage into her arms making her comfortable in her lap.  Her mama rocked her for a few minutes before telling Sage her story.

"When I was pregnant with you I was so happy.  I wanted nothing but happiness for you, however sometimes we do not get all our wishes.  I had made a big mistake. One you and I will have to live with for a long time."

"Mama was I that mistake?" Sage asked in a whisper.

"No darlin' you are the best thing that ever happened to me. And no matter what happens don't you forget that. I love you. You are the best part of me and of Daddy." She kissed her daughter's forehead and began her story again. 


"I wanted you to have the perfect name for the life you might be forced to live. Since life is seldom easy for anyone. I gave you a special name belonging to a select group of people. You are a 'Sage', someone  known to have wisdom, knowledge, someone able to predict the actions of those around them. Someone who is cautious, and very smart. Darling, this is the real meaning of your name.  It is my blessing for you.  You are a 'Sage"---my Sage.  Her mom paused and reached for a hand mirror laying on the end table. "Here Sage look in this mirror and let me describe how I see you."


Sage looked at her mother and back at the mirror. "Ok, Mama tell me what you see."


Her mother kissed the top of  Sage's head and began her story for the third time. 


"When I look at you I see  the makings of a beautiful woman. With long curly red hair touched by fire, balanced by streaks of afternoon sunshine.  I see gray green eyes the color of a sage plant. They are an indefinite color at times  known to change hues according to the emotions you are feeling.  I see a sprinkle of freckles across your nose.  I have always thought of them as angel kisses.  You are small in size. I doubt if you are more than 5 feet tall when you are grown. You are a wisp of a beautiful creature. Beauty helps to open doors for people. What you let in the door is up to you. The main thing I see is your strength.  You will gain this from many experiences in your young life. You are a survivor Sage. I love you more than you will ever know. You will make it, living to tell our story to your children one day."


Sage liked listening to her mother talk. Their talk for that day was over.  It was time for Mama to fix dinner.


Sage went upstairs to do her homework. But first she wanted to look in the mirror again. She liked what Mama saw. She wished she could see what Mama saw when she looked at herself, but she couldn't. It just wasn't there yet.

Dinner was soon ready. They ate alone. That was fine with both of them. They always saved him a plate.  John Wilson was a husband, father and a policeman. He worked odd hours and was gone a lot. They never made rock solid plans in their family. He was always on call.  They liked it when he was gone. It was easier to breathe. At the young age of 8, Sage knew there was something 'wrong' with Daddy. She was afraid of him. She would bet her favorite book that Mama was  afraid too.


Sage's mind returns to the present and to Atlanta. To the life she is living now. To her future and the decisions that needed to be made. It was always a fight to keep her mind and emotions in the present. Usually it was a battle she seldom won.

 It was hard to push the past out of her way, maybe because it was unresolved.  It never stayed gone for long. It came back in bits and pieces. Love and hatred, laughter and tears, hurting and healing. In some way or another the past always found her. It was the still small voice in the back of her mind. Maddening and ever present.

 She knew her father had killed her mother. He made people think she had run away from them. Lied about her having a boyfriend. In his fake grief and position of authority, he turned the town and the news media against her. There was nothing but dead ends. Soon her mother's disappearance was all but forgotten by the town.  Never by Sage.  Never by her father, Officer John Wilson.


About 6 months after her mother's disappearance, her father sold their home in town.  Buying a old fixer upper 10 miles from town. One mile down a gravel road that dead ended in his yard.  

He quit his job with the police force.  He wanted his own business as a handy man. Since he was well known in town, he knew there would be work to sustain him and his daughter.  There was for several years, until John became unreliable because of his drinking.

People felt sorry for Sage and for John too.  Liquor made John meaner than usual.  Along with all the other trappings that goes with an alcoholic.  He became slovenly in appearance, no longer prompt in his business appointments. He lost clients and his reputation.  He became forgetful, until he looked at Sage. When he looked in her eyes he remembered everything he had ever done.  He hated Sage for that reason. The feeling was mutual. 


For years Sage and her father played a mismatched game of dodge ball.  She tried to avoid him at all costs. He looked for her with every intention of killing her,  yet was never able to pull it off.  He had come close so many times. One lost second of control and she would get away.  When he beat her, he would use his fist on her head. No bruises would show. Her hair covered the lumps and cut places. He warned her if she told he would kill her.  She never once doubted him.  


The only visible sign of abuse was a cigarette burn on her ring finger.  When he stuck the cigarette to her skin, he laughed saying "Bitch, you are branded by your ole man. No man will ever put a ring on this ugly finger." As soon as he passed out, Sage walked to the bathroom covered her hand in cold water and cried, howled was more like it. A deep mournful howl of someone slowly dying. The scar was ugly and red. In the middle of the night, she swore it glowed.  She wore a band aide to cover the hideous reminder.


She worked for several years at a cafe on the outskirts of town. Her father didn't care as long as she helped pay the bills.  He let her drive an old blue pick up truck, he received in trade for a plumbing job he had done.  He had his truck--that was all that mattered.


As soon as Sage turned 18 and graduated from high school, she took the truck, her savings and left.  She still could hear the threat in his voice. It was the same voice he used on her daily.  He thought she was going to work. He was wrong, so wrong. He would never see or hear from her again. As long as she lived there would always be a river to separate them.