Strangers and Hope

              I’m not exactly sure why my mother decided that the middle of the worst blizzard to hit North Eastern Pennsylvania in a decade was the time to send me to Costco for hot chocolate and peanut butter but here we were. Hardly what one would call essential supplies for waiting out the storm but mom was ailing and frankly I didn’t have it in my heart to say no. We both knew this could very well be her last winter with us and while I felt ridiculous out here in my layers and mittens, I took solace in knowing we’d at least have 1 more cup of hot coco together.

Wandering aimlessly through the aisles looking for anything else we may need to wait out the week, I feel the unmistakable unease of being watched. Standing to face shelves, I slowly turn my head left and right in a moot attempt to identify who or what was watching me. Finding nothing, I pass off the feeling as anxiety caused by the snow storm, my ailing mother and the drive I knew waited for me once I got my groceries and checked out.

Slowly making my way towards the self-check out lanes when I hear a nearly inaudible coo. Stopping suddenly and holding my breath I once again peer around to locate the source of the noise. Again, a soft coo an innocent laugh and gurgle that could only be made by a small child. A slurry of emotions set in as I realized I was not alone as I once believed but that someone had abandoned this child in a Costco, leaving him or her to their fate.

I turned into the aisle containing various baby supplies and came face to face with the source of the giggles and gurgles.  Wrapped in pink and no more than 4 months old the child was chatty and happy despite her circumstances. I knelt, gently setting my basket on the floor before gingerly unfolding the pink blanket swaddling her. She did not appear to be injured or otherwise harmed. Debating my next move, I swaddle the child once more. Standing to look down at the child, she becomes visibly upset by the insinuation I was leaving. Sighing, I slowly bend and pick her up, speaking in oohs and ahhs trying to return her to the happy and sedate state I had found her in. Abandoning my grocery basket, I unzip my jacket and hold the child tightly to my chest trying to warm her and prepare for the blistering cold that awaits us outside.

Once in the parking lot and making a beeline for my car I notice the snow fall had tapered off. A brief relief took hold as I unlocked my car and begin puzzling how I’m going to secure the child long enough to make it to a hospital or a police station. Someone more qualified than I am to care for this child.

Deciding the passenger seat was probably the safest option, I tried to fashion bumpers and cushions of all and any sort with materials in my car. I’d never in my life hoped to be stopped by the cops but tonight, it seemed like best case scenario. We slowly eased out of the parking spot, tires sliding on ice and slush I made the slow and steady path to the highway. Heading North toward the hospital I divided my attention between the road and the child in the passenger seat. The numerous child endangerment laws being committed in this car were the least of my worries at this point.

              Slowing to a stop for a red light, I brushed the side of the childs face delicately with one finger. She giggled and wiggled her tiny little hands and feet at my touch, I couldn’t help but smile. I’d never had children, nor had the desire to have children but the motherly instinct I felt towards this tiny being in my car was coming strong and fast. The light turned green and I slowly accelerated forward into the intersection, completely unawares of the massive truck barreling out of control towards my car.

              Headlights blinded me as I reached for the child, making an attempt in vein to protect her in any way possible. I remember screaming, the gut wrenching crunch of metal and the hiss of hot fluids leaking from both my engine and the engine of the truck that had hit us. Everything hurt. I wasn’t sure if I was bleeding, if anything was broken or even if I was still alive. My mind seemed trapped in a state between the waking world and my subconscious. The only thing I was fully aware of was the soft giggling and cooing of the child laying on my chest. She had survived, how, I don’t know. I’d never been a religious person or remotely faithful but here in the wreckage waiting for first responders I thanked a higher power.

              I must have lost consciousness. I lost track of time and space. When next I opened my eyes the only thing I could see was a soft pink light. The closest thing my mind could relate it too was being on the inside of a spindle of pink cotton candy. I saw movement in my peripheral vision and smelled a warm vanilla and cinnamon wave dance across the light that was enveloping me. Softly a tall lithe woman approached me wearing thin pink and purple ombre robes and soft silver slippers. Her waist long blonde hair was done in a loose braid draped gracefully over her shoulder and her eyes I swear held the cosmos in them. I wanted to speak, to ask so many questions but the words would not come. She gently laid a thin but strong hand on my forehead and smiled at me like a mother tending to a sick child. She placed her second hand on my chest, just above my heart before whispering “You Will Live”.

              I sat up violently in my hospital bed. Tubes and wires, monitors of all kinds surrounded me. A harsh contrast from the warm cotton candy peace I had known moments before. Gasping for air and tugging at my standard issue hospital drape I felt a painful guttural scream escape my throat. I was alive. Suddenly painfully aware of the many scrapes and bruises, I broke down and cried. Nurses rushed to my side trying to calm me, warning me of tearing out this line or that monitor. I needed to leave. I needed to find the child that was in my car. Hands pushed and shoved, trying to get me to lie down and relax. Voices held shallow words of calm and reassurance. I didn’t care about any of them, I needed to find the child.

              Resigning to lying in the bed I frantically ask my nurse about the child in my car. She seems confused and concerned. Poking around my hair line and delicately touching my scalp she says I must have sustained a head trauma. I grip her scrubs in desperation and ask about the child once more. Confused and taken aback she tells me where was no child. EMS pulled me from the wreckage alone. My heart fell to the bottom of my stomach. She had been alive, I had heard her cooing and giggling as I drifted in and out of consciousness on the road waiting for help. She was with me, this nurse was obviously lying or trying to keep a harsh truth from me. Had the child died?

              I endured 48 hours in that hospital. Despite various cuts and bruises I was not severely injured and could go home after I passed various points and checks administered by the doctors attending my recovery. I felt myself sink into a depression, worrying about the child. It wasn’t fair. Someone had left her in that store. Someone had given up on that child before she had had a chance to live. I had tried my hardest to save her, to get her to a safe place, to find someone who would love her and nurture her. “God Damnit!” I swore in a teary rage. Survivors guilt came and lingered in me, like the stench of burnt hair in a house fire. I’d tried to save her and I’d failed. Where was she? Who was she with? Was she safe? Prompted by my outburst a nurse came in and gave me a stern but sympathetic look. I asked about the details of my discharge and was told they were nearing completion. I would be leaving within the hour.

              A friend had come to pick me up from the hospital, seeing as my car was in ruins in a scrap yard somewhere. We barely spoke as he took his time driving back to my moms house, where I was staying during her final days. I couldn’t help but cry as I watched the snow covered landscape pass us by. I’d gone out to get my mom some hot chocolate and ended up losing my car, an abandoned child and the hold I had had on my life. I felt as if everything was quickly unraveling around me.

              Once in my mothers drive way, I thanked my friend and made my way listless to the front door. There was an envelope wedged in between the door and the door frame. Tied with a thick pink ribbon I took the envelope out of the door and made my way inside. My mom was sitting at the kitchen table looking healthier than I had seen her in months. A spark of hope formed in my chest. I slowly made my way to her and kissed the top of her head, crying again. “ I love you momma” I whispered as I cried into her hair. Glancing up at me with wisdom and an ethereal glow in her eyes she replied “ I will live too”. Stunned I fell to my knees, taking her hands in mine and letting the tears trail down my face.

              “Kindness and love does not go un-noticed honey” she said wiping a tear from my face. Confused, I looked into her eyes seeing a flicker of something I could not identify. I sat, remembering the envelope with the pink ribbon. Opening it I found an image of the child I had found in Costco. Written on the back was a delicate thin script “You may not find faith until faith finds you”. My brain suddenly began to piece together everything that had happened to me in the last week. The snow, my ailing mother, the child, the crash and her delicate coos and gurgles in the wreckage. I had been sent to find more than hot chocolate. I had been sent to find faith. Faith that when the world is crashing and everything is burning, the kindness of a stranger can make the biggest impact when we least expect it.