Worlds Apart Together

The snowflakes swayed rhythmically along the air currents, gently spiraling down to the frozen earth. In silence, the flakes slowly gathered into a thin sheet that spread across the ground. Thoughts danced on the stage of Erin’s mind like a ballerina’s touch and go steps leaving her barely conscious of the outside world. Only the biting chill in the air brought her senses alive from time to time during her walk. When she finally did notice the snow falling, Erin picked up her pace. The cement jungle that was Erin’s home, lay behind her now, part of a walk destined never to be remembered. She didn’t need to pay much attention to her journey. It was a trek she had made many times during the past five years. The gray sky had begun to darken a daytime already cut short by winter’s icy hands. Erin knew it would probably be well into the evening when she returned home. She glanced at her watch figuring she would be with her mother in less than five minutes. She had already been walking for over an hour.
Broken glass crunched under Erin’s boots as she stared through the bars of the wrought iron gate. She pulled her leather gloves from her coat pockets. The gloves were tattered and torn from many winter’s passed. They were a gift from her mother on her eleventh birthday. Back then, the gloves slipped over her slender fingers with ease. She remembered being so proud of her gloves when she wore them for the first time. She walked to school the next day feigning sophistication, gliding along like an awkward swan. Now, it was a struggle to pull them on. The leather had cracked and peeled as her fingers grew and pressed firmly against the tips. But despite the fact that she’d outgrown them to the point at which they actually hurt, the gloves still brought Erin comfort. Now the gloves only accentuated her current state of poverty, but it didn’t matter. She would wear them until they were only threads.
Hands covered, Erin pulled at the iron gate. Its bottom dug into the ground forcing her to lift up as she pulled. She felt the vibrations ring through her fingers as the gate creaked open. She slipped past the gate and pulled it closed behind her following the path, covered by the shade of towering pine trees. Today it was too cold to smell the pine, which disappointed her. In the city, the scent of trees was available only in spray can potpourri or automobile air fresheners. Neither of them brought the peace of mind that the real trees here seemed to aptly deliver.
Once past the gates, Erin would begin an imagined conversation with her mother. Today was no exception as her mother’s voice echoed in her mind.
“It’s so cold in this place this time of year,” she spoke. “The sun never comes around here and the shadows are too plentiful. Why aren’t you wearing a hat?”
Erin shook her head slowly, “Why they picked this place for you mom, I’ll never understand. It is pretty but it’s too cold this time of year for you.”
“I miss the sunlight,” her mother said sadly. Erin watched the image in her mind. Her mother looked so sad. “I wish it were warmer. You know how I like to be warm. Here, the chill is overwhelming. It won’t go away. Please honey, wear your hat next time. It’s too cold.”
“I hate it when you’re sad, Mom. Things in my world are sad enough as it is. I wait until I get here for my sanctuary.”
Ahead of her, Erin saw the bench, it’s wooden slats warped and splintering. The cement base was chipped and dirty, but surely would outlast time itself. Erin sat down on the bench. Her mother was there in front of her, waiting where she always did.
“Hello mom,” Erin spoke, barely louder than a whisper. “It’s no wonder you’re so cold, sitting out here on such a day. You knew I was coming.”
“Of course I knew. But don’t you worry about me. I’ve gotten used to it here. I want to hear about you.”
Erin smiled, her eyes gazing across the closed in yard but obviously lost in another time. “Mom, we’ve had so many talks here. It’s strange. I feel like the best talks we’ve ever had have been the ones sitting here on this bench.” Erin closed her eyes, holding back tears. She didn’t need to see her mother’s face to know its expression when she spoke.
“I am sorry about that, honey,” her mother replied, voice cracking under the weight of emotion. “I wish I could go back in time and change that.”
Erin tried to smile but her mother knew it wasn’t genuine. “I am sorry honey,” she repeated barely louder than a whisper.
“I know Mom,” Erin said. “I know you’re sorry. I don’t blame you for leaving. It wasn’t your choice.”
“Well,” her mother said, trying to sound optimistic. “How are things?”
Erin shook her head. “Not so good, Mom. Things have gotten harder.” She absent mindedly swirled her hair tightly around her index finger. “I try and try in school and I guess that’s going okay. I broke up with Daniel. Bad scene. But he just wasn’t the right guy. I hate that I had put so much time and effort in with him and now it’s all over. What a waste. I’ll never try that again.”
“Now honey,” her mother said, “You can’t damn all boys because of one. There’ll be others you know.”
“But I can’t do it Mom,” Erin complained. “I can’t let them get close to me. I just get hurt in the end. That’s the way it always has been for me and that’s the way it will always be.”
“No honey,” her mother argued, a twinge of guilt evident in her voice. “It doesn’t always have to be that way. Please believe me. Things will get better.”
Erin looked at the ground, the snow accumulating at her feet. “Things can’t get worse.”
“Dare I ask about your father?” her mother questioned cautiously.
Erin was silent. She had thought a lot about her father lately even though it caused her pain. Somehow, Erin’s mother always knew how to uncover her daughter’s true questions. Deep down, Erin knew that was why she always felt the need to come to visit when things were rough.
“Well, Mom, things aren’t much different with dad these days. My birthday passed and just a card. Every damn year, a bullshit card, pardon my language, and that’s it. Why can’t he just call me for once? It’s been so many years since you left, Mom, and still he can’t get on with his life. Why does he shut me out?”
“Erin. You know you really hurt your father back then. I know it wasn’t easy for either of you but some of the things you said and did...they really hurt him.”
Erin knew that this was the truth but her anger was still strong. She remembered her father’s confusion and sorrow when her mother left. It almost seemed worse than her own. He sunk into his own dark, world never rising to the surface to see where his daughter was. The whole ordeal had been far too much for a twelve year old girl to cope with alone. To ward off loneliness and desperation, Erin found comfort on the streets of the city. By the time her father had emerged from his own darkness, Erin had become hopelessly entangled with her new life on the streets. After months of fighting, dragged to the end of his proverbial rope, Erin’s father sent her to live with her grandparents. He knew that they wouldn’t be able to control her any better than he did but he had nothing left to give her. He was depleted of emotions. Once she left, he cut off all connections with her. She had called him a few times and left messages on his answering machine. He had never returned the calls. Frustrated and angry, she gave up.
“But Mom, why does he have to be so stubborn? He’s hurt me enough to make up for it ten times. A hundred times! He’s the adult here, not me. I’m the kid. Why does it have to be me to make things better?”
There was a silence. Erin listened as the breeze whispered through the pines like angel spirits softly summoning their souls. Her mother spoke. “Erin, you are the child but you are also the grown up. Sometimes age doesn’t really matter very much. I know your father is as stubborn as they come and you take after him like that. But one of you has to give or you will forever feel that bitterness. And, you will forever feel that abandonment.”
Erin looked up, surprised that her mother knew that she felt abandoned. “I think that’s why it didn’t work with Daniel,” she admitted. “I was afraid of getting too close and being abandoned.”
“I know that, honey. I know I left you when you were only a child and I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for that. But your father is still out there. He can still be a part of your life. But Erin, nothing will change unless you go and talk to him. Remember the first time you came here?”
Erin didn’t have to think about it. The memory painted itself across her mind without any effort. “Yes Mom, it was more than a year after they put you here.”
“Well? Haven’t we worked things out?”
Erin nodded. “I know. For some reason it was just easier with you.”
“Circumstances,” her mother said, laughing lightly. Erin smiled, appreciating the ironic humor. She knew it would be time to leave soon. Any time she came to visit her mother, she traveled with a heavy heart, but the comfort of being with her mother seemed to lighten everything, even if just for the mile and a half walk back to her grandmother’s city apartment.
“Go to your father Erin. It’s been too many years and he’s too stubborn and scared to come to you. He doesn’t know you anymore.”
“Mom, I don’t know him either and he‘s not the only one living in fear of this,” Erin replied.
“Not knowing him is why you are scared and that is why you need to go to him. You’ve worked things out with me. Now it’s time to work things out with your father. If you don’t, you’ll never make things work with Daniel or any other boy. Take that step. Go to him.”
Erin smiled and looked up through the branches that stood motionless above her. Past the pines, she could see the faint speckles of stars rising from the fading twilight. With her eyes closed, Erin stood up and saw the image of her mother as she looked six years earlier. She knew that that image would never change. Her mother would be young forever, always kind, always wise, always there for her. Erin opened her eyes and said “Thank you Mom. I will go to talk with him.” She drew in a deep breath of the crisp air and stood up. She stepped forward from the bench and took off her gloves. Erin reached out her hand, touching the gray stone. Her fingers roamed from the rough, arched edge to the fading polished front, crossing the carved letters and numbers. She bent down and touched the earth, feeling the coldness her mother spoke of earlier. Next to the stone was a flower pot with long dead flowers clinging to the edge.
“I promise I’ll come back in the spring and replant your flowers Mom,” Erin whispered, staring at the stone. “Try to stay warm. Spring is only a couple of months away. You know it’s so pretty here in the spring time.” A tear traced a crooked path across Erin’s cheek. “I miss you Mom.” She stood up and touched the stone once more, feeling the bitter coldness it seemed to emanate. Erin smiled at the stone, still seeing her mother. “Goodbye Mom. I’ll be back soon to tell you how things go with Dad.” With that, she turned to the path and began to walk towards the gates. As she walked away, her heart a little lighter, she heard her mother’s voice call from behind.
“Maybe you won’t need that hat next time.”