Serenity’s Soul
February 4, 2010
Dear Serenity’s Soul,
Do you believe in chance encounters or that everything happens for a reason? I saw a face today that was unfamiliar to me, yet his eyes were as if I had always known him somehow—yes, a familiar stranger in a way. I was simply walking along on the sidewalk across the street from Mr. Lee’s store. I didn’t expect anything special to happen, but then…the things you usually don’t expect to happen are the very things that do.
I did not know him from far away, but as we came closer to each other, just about to pass each other, our eyes met briefly. It only took that brief moment to realize that he was a tall young fellow with dark hair. It was the same description Mr. Papa gave me of the man that was looking for me that day at the apartment—the nice, unknown man who paid my rent. But really, many young men fit that description, and this one could just be another passer by in life. Somehow, though, in that brief moment…he was more than that. He looked at me, and it was as if I heard his thoughts through the rather curious look in his eyes.
“Monica? Could you be Monica?” was the look he gave me, as if to whisper it to me calmly.
But his voice said nothing, as we passed by each other. It was not love, but rather a mysterious connection of knowing each other somehow. Perhaps I was just tired and made something out of nothing at all.
When I returned to the house, my mother was baking cookies. The smell took me back to a day when my parents were arguing, and though I remembered their angry faces vividly, their voices were scrambled and I did not understand their words in that memory of mine. It doesn’t matter. Perhaps it is better that I did not remember the words. My father stormed out of the house. I remember him slamming the door behind him. The loud sound scared me, and my fear made me cry. My mother came to me and took my hand as if nothing happened.
“Let’s bake cookies.” She said, as she led me into the kitchen.
For a moment in my childhood, she did try to protect me, and I wondered how this man that was like a sweet melody in her soul turned into such a wretched noise in her life…and in mine too.
My mother took me out of my daze by calling my name.
“Monica?” she said.
I returned to reality quickly and answered, “Yes?”
“I have a place to take you to in the morning. I have something to show you.”
I paused for a moment. “Okay, Mom.”
She only smiled, and I did not ask questions. I did not tell her about the unusual encounter on the street. I did not tell her about the sudden flash of memory I had of my father. I only said ‘okay’ and trusted that it would be just that.
We’ll see.
Goodnight,
Monica
