I was gardening outside of my house. It was a cloudy day with randomly delightful bursts of sunlight. I had finished a section of the garden, and stood up to stretch. As I looked into my window from the outside, I saw for a thread of an instant, your reflection in the window behind me. A huge smile graced your face. I turned around, but there was nothing but the trees and silence of the afternoon. I shook my head, telling myself I was too worked up and stressed. So saying, I decided to rest for awhile. As I lay there relishing the lush grass, a breeze lilted smoothly past, making the tree branches sway slightly and making the leaves rustle like soft whispers. For a split second your voice wafted past my ear. I sat up quickly and told myself I was going insane.

I was in a huge train station, like something in New York or Chicago. I was waiting for you in the busy, rushing crowd. I was standing there, hoping; anxious and worried. Then, I saw you there with a suitcase, looking down as you walked. I shouted your name, but you didn’t hear me. I tried to get closer, but you still didn’t respond. Then, you looked up, a bright smile on your face. I felt relieved and so happy. Then all of a sudden, you started to disappear; to fade away. You began to lighten and become pale and discolored. I reached out and tried to grab your hand, but as I touched your fingertips with my fingers, I felt nothing but a cool mist slip through my hands. I realized that what I was seeing was a mirage; a vision of what I wanted, but knowing it could never come true, I had hoped too hard. I felt a tug on my jeans. A tiny little girl looked up at me with big, blue eyes and lovely, curly, dark chocolate hair.

“Mommy, where did daddy go?”

“He’s gone, Celia.”

“Where did he go, mommy?

“Heaven, darling.”

“How did he get there?”

“He died.”

“What made him do that, mommy?”

I started to cry. I had a flashback of watching the news, seeing the plane dive into the building and minutes earlier, I had heard your voice over the phone, urgently telling Celia and me goodbye…

©M2009