Serenity’s Soul
February 14, 2010 (11:00 a.m.)
Dear Serenity’s Soul,
I had to take a walk. I carried you closely in my hand. You felt alive to me, like a person that was walking right beside me. Perhaps it is because you hold my feelings—the truth of who I really am inside. I took the walk to try and clear my mind, but it was useless. My mind is crowded with lost memories that have found their way back into existence. I thought I let them drift away from me, but they were never really gone….just hidden. I returned to the house and just sat on the front step of the porch with you beside me—a notebook, yet…the shoulder I lean on. It was quiet until my mother came outside and sat down beside me.
“I was wondering where you were. I woke up and you were nowhere to be found.” She said with a worried look on her face.
“I didn’t sleep well, so when the sun came up and the morning was somewhat settled, I decided to go for a walk to clear my mind.”
“Oh, well I wish you would have said something. I would have walked with you.”
“I needed to be alone.”
She had a troubled look in her eyes.
“I met the new girl, Stacey. She seems to be a nice girl.”
I didn’t respond to her.
“Mocha was looking for you. She was sleeping by the door this morning. I fed her.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. Once again, it was time to get straight to the point.
“What happened to Dad the day he came home with blood on his shirt?”
My mother’s eyes became frozen and her lips quivered a bit letting me know that she was nervous.
“Monica, there are many other things to talk about. The morning is beautiful and….”
“There are many other things to talk about. I am aware of that, Mom, but I choose to talk about this regardless of the morning, regardless of the day, regardless of anything else there is to talk about or see or feel…this is my choice.”
I was serious and she knew that. Answers needed to come quickly, because I was frustrated and impatient.
“I thought you were in your room that day. I didn’t know you saw that.”
“There are many things you probably don’t know I saw or heard.”
She took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “Your father was in such a frantic state that I thought he was going to have a heart attack. He wanted to go to the hospital for some reason, so I went upstairs to get you prepared to go next door, because I knew something strange was happening. When your father and I got to the hospital, he quickly parked his truck and got out. It was hard to keep up with him. He was everywhere asking where a little girl was, the one that was hit. Finally, a nurse pointed us in the right direction, and we saw these people and this woman crying. Steven went up to the woman, and she just looked at him and said, ‘She’s dead.’ Your father couldn’t move. He became…I don’t know, like the life was gone out of him. He said to her, ‘I didn’t mean to Ma’am, I didn’t mean to.’ But the woman didn’t seem mad at him or anything. She said, ‘ I know, I know, it’s not your fault.’ She was hurt, but she…tried to help him. Nothing could help him. No words could comfort him. I still didn’t quite understand, so I asked a man that was standing there if he knew anything about the situation.
I said, “Excuse me sir, but do you know anything about that lady there?”
“Yes,” he said, “I was a witness to what happened. I saw the whole thing. Her little girl wanted to go to the toy store across the street. She told her no, that they’d go another day. The little girl wanted to go right then, and threw a fit, got away from her mother and ran out into the street, and that man there hit her. He was real upset when he got out of his truck. He went around and tried to help the little girl. The mother was of course upset, and screaming. That man did all he could do, but the little girl was just….just drifting away.”
As that man told me that, sorrow took over my heart almost as if a dark cloud took over the beautiful blue sky. Your father was never the same. No one blamed him for what happened. Everyone knew that it was a terrible, terrible accident, but your father could never accept it. He thought he could hear the little girl talking to him. He thought he saw her face everywhere he went. He said that in the silent moments, she whispered to him, “Save me. Save me. Can’t you save me?” And he said that he kept telling her he couldn’t save her. After that, he started drinking a lot to get her out of his mind. He said it was the only way she would leave. I begged him to get help, to see a doctor or somebody, but he said that no doctor could help him. Things just got worse. Your father just…became lost.”
The dark truth that my mother told me pierced my heart like the sharp and vengeful edge of a blazing sword. I wasn’t prepared for that kind of truth, for that kind of pain.
“Monica, when your father lost touch with us, it wasn’t anything that you did. It wasn’t anything that I did. Your father had a fragile heart, and that fragile heart of his was shattered beyond repair.”
I managed to mumble out some words. “B—But, everything…every happy moment was destroyed.”
She took a deep breath. “Yes it was. Everything was broken.”
“Did you hear from the little girl’s mother ever again?”
“No. No, I used to pray for her every night because I knew she had to be feeling empty, and your father heard my prayer one night, and became enraged. He thought I blamed him and was asking God to take his life too. I had to start saying that prayer silently, in my mind--in my heart.”
We just stared at each other for a moment, and I knew my mother couldn’t go on right then.
So she said, “You know, Francis, is planning a bake sale. She wants us to help in the kitchen. We’re going to make all kinds of goodies. Maybe that will cheer us up a little.”
I smiled a little. “May be so. I um, I feel like writing, so I will meet you inside.”
She said okay, smiled, and went in to the house.
I picked you up to start writing this entry, and as I end it right here…I still have to wonder what the rest of this day holds. Somewhere out there, my father just may be thinking about me. I mean, it’s possible. May be one day I will get to see his face again, and when he looks into my eyes, there just may be a chance that he will see me…his little princess, his baby girl….may be.
I’ll see you on the next page.
Monica
