Peter
found himself walking down a forest trail with Marie. She had run ahead and was looking at
something along side the trail. The
terrain was very hilly and he believed they must be in the Appalachians. How did they get there? He was focused on the trees around him when
he realized that Marie was a girl and no longer a young woman. How
did that happen? Where were they? She was bent over looking at something. He called to her, “Sweetie, come to
daddy. I don’t want you to get lost.”
Marie
stood up from the other side of a tree and looked at her father. She called out, “But daddy, mommy’s right
here.” Melissa peaked her head from the
other side of the tree and said, “I’m right here, Pete. We’re looking at a walking stick.”
Peter’s
knee’s felt weak. It was Melissa. His wife was alive. How was this possible? He walked to her and stood there, gazing,
while Melissa and Marie looked at the insect.
Melissa, who always loved “critters,” told Marie how the walking stick
stays safe since predators have trouble recognizing it.
After
Melissa stood up Peter said, “Honey, I love you.” He reached his arms around her and held her
in a warm, loving embrace. Melissa
chuckled, “I love you, too. Are you ok?”
Peter
wondered if the last 18 years had been a dream.
Was this real? Is this reality
and everything he knew wasn’t? He didn’t
want to come across as strange to his wife so he replied, “No, I’m ok. I’ve just been thinking and I realize what a
happy and blessed man I am. I am happy
you decided to marry me. You have made
me so happy. I am just grateful for my
family.”
“You’ve
done a great job raising our little girl.”
“Well, I
couldn’t have done it without you.”
“What do
you mean? I died giving birth to Marie. You did it all yourself.”
Peter felt
as if he’d been punched in the stomach. His
mind whirled. All he could say was a
weak croak that sounded something like, “What?”
“I know
you know what I’m talking about, Pete. I
died about 18 years ago when Marie was born.”
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