Ordinarily Sarah

A few days later, after speaking again with Annie, I drove to the mall where she and I had planned to meet. I arrived first, looked around, found a small white table in the Food Court, and sat down. But suddenly I wanted to run again! My entire life was about to change once more! Was I up to the task? Was I opening myself up to something wonderful? Or, was I opening myself up to a world of heartache? Was this indeed a part of THE TIME AFTER? Or not? Some years ago I had put it all to rest. I had put Annie to rest. I had believed that I would never see her or any of her family again. Ever. And I had reached a place of acceptance. I would see them all someday, I had told myself, just NOT on this side of life. Never again on this side of life. It was just the way it was. Nothing could be changed. None of us could ever go back. We could only move forward. Not sideways. Not backward. Only forward. I would not see my daughter, her husband, or her children again, on this side of heaven. Yet now, amazingly, here I was, about to reunite with my daughter, in a new time and place. And I felt terrified! I wanted to run away! I wanted to go somewhere safe. I did not want to be in this mall! Was she really coming? Or was this a trap? Would she, just like Jesus’ disciple Judas, betray me with a kiss, alerting my enemies as to who I was? Would I be taken away? I looked furtively at my surroundings. This mall held sad memories for me. Memories of the time just AFTER Annie and her family left us. For months after they left us I had come to this mall alone to look through the windows of my favorite children’s stores. For months I had wished I could purchase sweet little outfits for Rory. Or small toys. Or little hardback books, made especially for clumsy little hands. For months I had wished that Annie and Rory and I could have been seated at a table like this in the Food Court, with a little meal for Rory, and something tasty on a tray set out for Annie and me. Why had I kept coming here all those months? Had I thought that perhaps one day they would just materialize before me? But today it was only me I saw in those memories. Wandering around in the mall. Like a shadow. Annie and Rory no longer with me. No one to buy anything for. I could no longer see their faces. I could no longer hear their laughing. I could no longer reach for those fat little baby hands. I wished we were not meeting for lunch. I wasn’t hungry. And my throat was clogged with years of lumpy, unshed tears. What in the world would we talk about? But it was too late. She was coming. I was about to see my daughter again! And so I waited at the little white table, keeping my eyes on the doorway by the carousel. The carousel I had wished I could have seen Rory ride on. But little Rory was gone. Little Rory would never be that toddler again. And the grown up Rory was not coming today. “Pleased to meet you”, he had said. And then disappeared. Only Annie was coming. My Annie, who wanted to keep me a secret from her family. But why? And I began to feel angry. Did her family still believe I was an enemy? Was that it? What was my daughter doing, coming here to see me? What was she thinking? Why was she coming? I asked God to give me strength. I didn’t know if I could pull this off. After twenty years, I didn’t know if I could do this. How was I to welcome her back in my arms? She had been dead to me for many years. How could she be alive again? Suddenly she appeared. By the door next to the carousel. She saw me, smiled, and came towards me. I, in turn, walked towards her. She looked good. Long brown hair with steaks of gray. Tall and slim. I had not remembered that she was so tall. Or so pretty. The moment we reached each other we hugged. She had been looking for me, and she had found me. She had come home. And I was there to welcome her. Was this real? But how? And not knowing what to do next, we simply ordered sandwiches and coffee, sat down at our table and began to talk as if the last twenty years had merely been a brief inconvenience. Nothing more. At least that is what we made ourselves believe. No matter if she had been gone for twenty seasons, or twenty anything. No matter that so many members of our family had passed away during that time-span, without her having said good-bye. No matter that so many new babies had been born into the family during that length of time, without her welcoming any of them. No matter that I had not seen Rory grow up. No matter that I did not know the names of her other children. Or the color of their eyes. Or their ages. No matter that I knew nothing about them at all. We could get past this. For now we would do something normal. Something all mothers and daughters do. We would sit at a table, in a food court, in a mall, eat sandwiches, drink coffee, talk, as if all was well with the world. As if our lives had never been upended. As if the Pretty Lady had never come. She had much to tell me. She told me that she and her family had been out of the “church” for over a year, nearly two years in fact. She definitely did not want to talk about the church. She said it had not been a good experience. None of it had been good. She explained to me that she might talk about it when she was ready, but not on this day. As if our lives had never been upended.