The BridgeA Story by I Am Svetlana“It just hasn’t
been the same since your mother died.” My father mumbled one morning as he sipped
his cup of coffee in the kitchen, black is how he usually takes it. My
name was Hannah and I was a junior in high school, about 17 years old. I was
your average teen, but my mother had passed away when I was in middle school.
Her passing had taken an emotional toll on my father and things seemed to fall
apart between him and I. The
funeral seemed to drag on, which seemed to make everyone irritable, but it
never personally bothered me since I enjoyed being in the same room as my
mother’s spirit, her soul. I felt her presence and knew she was in a good
place, safe. I make it through every day and do my best because I know she is
with me, even if she’s not physically here. I
came downstairs and was cutting a bagel in half to spread on cream cheese and
jelly. “I
just miss her, that’s all.” My father mumbled. This irritated me, so I put the
knife down and decided to respond. “And
you don’t think I miss her?” “I
know, but…” He uttered. “Jesus,
Dad. You aren’t the only person in this family who lost someone. She was your
wife and my mother. It’s as simple as that, so remember that.” I was fed up with his complaining and acting
as if he was the only one who deserved to be sulking. Nowadays, he acted as if
I didn’t care that she was gone, when in reality, he could not imagine the pain
I was going through in order to get through each day without her. I knew my father had been affected by my
mother’s passing, but the nerve of him to think of no one but himself. I was at
a loss, a low point with him. I needed air. He
lowered his head and sighed. Taking frequent sips of coffee from his mug as I
grabbed my bag and headed to catch the school bus. School
was the same, but today felt more like a blur. After the bell rang, I decided
to miss the school bus home and took a stroll in the woods, soon standing on a
bridge. It was a place where my mother and I would take coins every so often
and make a wish. We would throw our coins over moments later, hoping that one day
our wishes would come true. I
looked over the bridge’s edge to the rushing water below, the rapids. Feeling
the cool air caress my delicate face. I climbed up the bridge to the outside,
leaning forward with my hands holding the brass behind me. Looking out into the
distance, the sky, the trees, hearing the birds and the life of nature.
Suddenly, I asked myself if my dad would seem to care if I ever came home or
not. Being on this particular bridge that held treasured memories made me shed
all likes of hope or even fear. At this moment, I wanted to fall forward into
the crushing water, have them swallow me whole; drag me downstream to somewhere
entirely new. I smiled at the thought. I
braced myself and prepared to let go, but something made me look down into the
water once more. I heard silence and noticed that the rushing water had
stopped. The water was now flowing ever so slowly and it looked like glass if
you peered at it from above. I saw something in the water just then. A familiar
face, one that I would know anywhere, better than anyone. My
mother’s. Even
through the water she looked ever so beautiful, so real. My eyes fixed upon her
gentle, hazel eyes. I felt the tears build up behind my eyelids and I was not
afraid to let them flow. She was here, I felt so comforted, so at home. “Mom?
Is that you?” I asked the water below me softly. The face seemed to smile and
nod. I saw her hands come towards me, as if reaching out. Even at your lowest,
whether she was with you or not, my mother knew just how to care. “I
miss you, Mom.” I said. “And Dad does too, but he seems to forget that you were
special to me too, a part of me.” “Oh,
honey,” my mother’s reflection replied, I felt the tears give way, flowing
gently down my face. Her voice was like the sound of sleigh bells, so cheerful
and charming. You could hear them anytime of the year and be in a good mood. “Your
father will be alright. He is just in a very delicate place right now.” I wiped
my tears and continued to focus on her face. “He
just acts as if I don’t care about you at all. We both lost you, not just him.”
I admitted. I felt terrible saying this to her, but I couldn’t bring myself to
lie. “Hannah,
dear. It’s okay to cry and I miss you too. More than you know.” I wiped the
remaining tears off of my face and the snot from my nose. Just then, her
reflected hands began to motion, as if beckoning me to jump to her, into her
arms. “Come
be with me, my dear.” My mother’s reflection said. I had no doubt in my mind. I
cared about nothing else than this moment and felt that I chose to walk away, I
might never get a chance to see my precious mother again, the person who has
always meant the most to me. So,
I decided to let all hope fade away, all my fears, and let go. © 2013 I Am SvetlanaReviews
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Added on October 21, 2013Last Updated on October 21, 2013 AuthorI Am SvetlanaMadison, WIAbout"If you cannot write well; you cannot think well; if you cannot think well, other's will do your thinking for you." -Oscar Wilde Hello all, my name is Emily Svetlana! I am 30 years old and wo.. more..Writing
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