Encounters Anthology

Dear God

It had been a while since I had visited the park where my mother used to bring me as a child. In fact the last time I'd been here was two years ago, the longest I had been away from it was six months. It felt good to be back, here I felt close to her; here it felt as if she'd appear behind one of the trees. I felt like I'd suddenly see a flash of the red of her favorite skirt, or I'd step on the pink lace she always had on her blonde long hair but always failed to tie correctly.

I walked into a hidden path between the winter trees and as always, right near a clear stream of water, was our hiding spot. It was a tiny cave formed by the roots of a dead tree, my mother and I used to go into that spot the days my father would come back into our house drunk. She'd say it was our safe place, where we could be anything we wanted to be, where we could talk about anything we pleased and where we didn't have to be careful. I love our little hiding spot. Even now I still have honest conversations with my mother regardless of her unfortunate death when I was fourteen. I remember she used to lay her head on my lap while we talked, I'd stroke her hair for hours, even now I still like to sit down and do it, even if I have to imagine that she's still there.

My mother was a beautiful being. She'd tell me stories every night and she'd cover my eyes when there was something I had to be protected from. It makes me sad to know that there are people in this world that privy us from living with beautiful souls. I like searching for beautiful souls, just like my mother's. It makes me happy to know them; it makes me feel like my mother never died, like she lived on through all of these girls.

After my mother died the first soul I met that brought light back into me was a seven-year-old girl. Her name was Anastasia and we met in this park when I was going to my special place. Her blue ball had rolled near my feet and she approached me to get it back, I ended up joining her little game and as we threw the ball to the air, into each other's hands, I told her my story. I told her about my mom and I told her how she reminded me of her. The little girl listened and asked about her, for the first time I felt happiness since her death. We kept playing until I told her about my special place. She asked if she could go and see it; I agreed, we walked into the hidden path between the flowered trees, and right next to the clear stream was my special place. We sat in there and she placed her head on my legs, I stroked her hair while she talked about her parents and her fights with her siblings, but after that day, I never saw little Anastasia again.

The next soul I met was a fifteen-year-old girl called Bethany. I was sitting in a café when the sight of pink lace caught my attention. It was young Beth sipping on some coffee looking at her phone, the way she sat immediately reminded me of my mom; it was beautiful. She caught me smiling at her and approached me; she asked if she could sit with me. We talked about school for a while and about likes and dislikes, she took my number and the next week we went on a date in the park my mom used to take me to. There, I showed her my hiding spot, I felt like I could truly be honest, so while she was laying her head on my legs I told her about my mother. She listened intently and when I finished she kissed me on the lips, I was surprised but at the same time her lips comforted me from the resurrected pain of talking about my mother. We went out a few times until one day she disappeared from my life. My friends thought that I should've hated her for it but I couldn't hate her. She was a marvel of life.

I saw an old woman wearing a white dress with a red apron on. I thought that if my mother had lived into her sixties she would've looked like that, it brought a certain sour-sweet feeling into my stomach. The lady complemented me on my shoes and started a conversation. Her name was Clara, I told her how she reminded me of my mother and it made her very happy, we talked for a while and she offered to make me a sandwich at her place in exchange of me telling her more stories about my mother, I agreed. This started a routine of me going to her house every Thursday to talk about our lives. Every time I went I brought her some flowers, I loved seeing her smile when she opened her door, it made me feel loved and cherished. One day she told me that she really wanted to see my hiding spot and that she'd love to have a picnic with me there. The day we had the picnic she wore the same dress she was wearing when we met and coincidentally she wore her hair the exact same way as my mother. A few weeks later, I went to her house as always but she didn't open the door, the neighbor told me that he saw Clara's sons come by and assumed they were there to take her away. I never saw her again.

I sat in my hiding spot picturing the way I caressed my mother's hair. When the sun went down I broke down in tears, I missed her so much and no matter how many girls I found that had beautiful souls, none of them were my mother. When I composed myself I looked down and again I saw the empty eyes of a girl with a beautiful soul. I stood up and buried my memories of her next to the memories of the other souls I had encountered. Every time I stepped out of my hiding place I knew that only time could determine how long it would be before I tried to find my mother again knowing, that every effort would be futile, I would never see her again, only reflections of who she used to be, of what we used to be.