The Scarf

“I’m tired”, I plea to the millions of stars that hang above me so effortlessly. “I’m tired and I can’t do it anymore” my plea turns to cries as I fall to my knees with my palms to my face. The cold air freezes my tears and I feel as though I will forever be cold. Without his hand to hold mine and his voice to speak my name, I will never know warmth the same. “Please”, I continue my plea, “take me too. If you can’t give my baby back to me then just take me too!” I scream to the moon, the stars and the rest of that empty universe. Without my baby boy walking this Earth, that’s all anything is anymore, empty nothingness.

The strangers that pass by see me as nothing but a monster who has finally left from under the bed. I can feel their beady gaze settle in on me. Their disdain seeps away from their bodies so seamlessly and latches to me. These people blame me for the death of my precious little boy, but they weren’t standing on that ice. They didn’t hear the wails of a mother losing the sole purpose of that very title. They didn’t see the blood drenching through my fist and splatting across my face with every blow to the ice. They didn’t feel the weight of my frozen boy whose cheeks just moments ago were cherry red and kissed with frost.

As I finally take my hands away from my face, I notice something waving in the few inches of snow that lay above the frozen lake. I stand to my feet and begin to walk toward the flailing object. Making my way, I realize I am looking at a dove colored waffle knit scarf. I reach for the scarf and shake out the lingering snow. The only markings on the scarf is a label that says, Moon Dust. With a mind too fatigued to overthink this half hidden discovery, I wrap the scarf around my neck and continue walking across the frozen lake. The ache that fills my body refuses to let me rest. My soul craves the same stiffening cold that my son endured. It certainly deserves nothing less.

Wandering down the lake, the moonlight reflects brighter against the snow. I can see a figure ahead. It looks like a man sitting in a chair. I stare ahead and then to the woods that confine the lake to its quarters. They feel ominous and dense at this time of night and particularly quiet.

I approach the man who looks frozen to his chair and find that he is ice fishing. I look at him and at first I say nothing. I stare down into the small circle of exposed water wishing I could escape as easily as the worm at the end of the hook.

“Hello” I say finally. The man grunts. I wonder if he knows who I am and hates me just as much as every other stranger. I stare again into the water as dark as the night sky waiting for a bite. Nothing. No life could survive the harshness of this underwater world. I decide to carry on away from the man and continue to wander down the lake. Away from my home and toward nothing in particular.

The light against the snow begins to fade from dim grays to arctic blues. Out on the ice ahead I hear the scrapings of skates. I follow the sound and see a little girl twirling and gliding across the freed ice. I pick up my pace because I see no adult with her. Her hair is wrapped in a bun and she has puffy pink earmuffs on which is probably why she can’t hear me as I finally arrive at her solo recital. “Excuse me” I shout to her but she ignores my call

“Excuse me!” I continue, “Little girl, where is your mom?” My voice is louder now, she must hear me. I walk onto her little ice rink and go to grab her arm but she slips right through. What was that? I think to myself. She bends down to fix her skate and I stand in front of her to meet her gaze. “Hey” I say, waving my hand in front of her, “Where is your mother?” But she doesn’t respond and doesn’t even notice me intruding in her arena. I cross my hands against my chest now annoyed at how invisible I feel. My anger boils over and I stomp over to the girl and again go to grab her hand. As mad as I am, I cannot just walk away and leave her alone on the ice, but my hand slips through hers as easily as you walk through fog. I try again and erratically wave my hands in front of her screaming, “Hello? Hello? Can you see me?” But she can’t. I touch my hands to my face and I can feel my cheeks and nose and ears. I’m certainly here.

My heart begins to race as I back away from this lonesome skater and head back toward the fisherman. My boots hit the ice hard as I dash in the direction of home. I can see the air leaving my lungs and disappear around me. This must be a dream. By the time I reach the fisherman’s hole he is nowhere to be found. An empty chair sits hauntingly in front of me. I search around the lake hoping he only just left, but there is no one. There is nothing.

The frozen world around me feels enormously intimidating. I begin my run again back home when I see an animal perched in the snow. My run turns to a jog as I am afraid to scare the animal away. It’s an owl. It’s yellow and black eyes stand out in this white terrain. The arctic blues are slowly merging into pale oranges and yellows as the sun rises. The owl cocks its head at me in wonder.

“You can see me” I say to the owl. “I know you can see me.” I walk to the left and watch as its head follows my path. I walk to the right and the owl continues to follow my stride. A leap of hope fills my chest. “I knew I couldn’t be invisible. That was so ridiculous of me.” I stare at this snowy owl and he stares right back. “Is this a dream?” I ask this feathered native. Snow begins to fall from a cloudless sky. The owl spreads its wings out and lets out an eerie screech that forces my hands to my ears. As its wings collapse back into itself it soundlessly takes flight and there is something in the snow that wasn’t there a second ago. Or at least I hadn’t noticed it as my attention was set so strictly on the guardian, I hardly saw what it was protecting.

But my eyes must be tricking me as I look down. This must all be a dream. I focus in on the body that lay before me. The only difference between me and her is that I am wearing a dove waffle knit scarf and she is not. I reach down afraid to wake her up but more afraid that she won’t. Or I guess, in this case that I won’t wake up. I shake her shoulders and cry out to her, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”, but she doesn’t move. Her body is rigid. Her face is a familiar pale blue. Her eyes are frozen shut from tears that are now permanent streaks of ice down her cheeks. I take off the scarf and wrap it around her in a final effort to bring her back. To bring me back. I stare at my lifeless body and feel myself sinking into the ground just as I had pleaded. Into the snow, through the ice, and under the water. Drowning away from the world above. Staring up at the sheet of ice and thinking its the sky. I close my eyes and plea again, “This isn’t what I wanted!” But water fills my lungs and suffocates my words. I hear boots above the ice and hope it’s the fisherman. I reach my hand toward the ice and imagine being pulled out from this purgatory. But instead my world fades to white and I hear a faint familiar call, “Mama?”