That Which Connects Us.

 She heard the clanging before she saw the girl ringing the bell beside the fake black cauldron next to the donation sign. The red Santa hat on her head bounced along with her singing of jingle bells.

That particular sound awakened something sad in Betsy. She always quickly walked by, never making eye contact, and never making any contributions. It was silly, but a little shiver ran down her spine this cold December day. 

 Betsy knew this melancholy would pass, but the beginning of December always started this way for her. 

What she remembered was how empty the room had felt and how the cold air had crept in through the thin blanket that December day. The nurse had already prepared her. Heels uncomfortably placed in the stirrups, and she had scooted as far down on the exam table as she could. The sheet had barely covered her, and her whole body jumped when the doctor opened the door. She could feel the beating of her heart and hear the quickening of her breath. If it hadn't been for the warmth of Molly's hand holding hers, Betsy probably would have cried through the whole exam. 

The green-clad doctor had given her a sympathetic smile.

"So, we need to verify the pregnancy."

The tears had come, sliding down the sides of her face. Her body had flinched as the doctor sat down between her legs and pushed on her stomach.

"Yep looks like it. So get dressed, and you can make an appointment for the procedure at the front desk. "

The doctor had patted her on the knee and walked out of the room. Except she hadn't scheduled the procedure.

Instead, she had finished out that sophomore year in college and spent the summer at Molly's family cabin. Over 42 years ago. She only got to hold her baby girl for a few minutes. 

 As she pushed the shopping cart over to the deli, she chastised herself. Why was she thinking about this again? There were presents to buy, and she was looking forward to spoiling those grandchildren and seeing her children. Her husband was retiring next year, and there was so much to look forward too. She smiled as the clerk handed her the deli meat. 

She pushed the cart towards the bakery, where the smell of the bread caused her stomach to make growling noises. The warmth of the freshly baked artisan bread she picked up reminded her again of Molly. Her friend had been a rock through it all, the rape, the hospital, the heartbreak. And now cancer had claimed Molly. Maybe it was just thinking about family.

 A blond curly-headed child waved at her from the cart, where a mother was carefully looking over the yogurt choices as she smiled and waved back. Would she be able to recognize her daughter if she ever saw her again? Shaking her head at her, thinking, she pushed her cart to the self check out. 

Betsy had created so many scenarios in her head over the years. In every one, her daughter was successful and had a perfect life. But she knew life didn't work out that way. After all, Betsy's son had come home from Afganistan only to die in a senseless car crash two years later. 

She couldn't help but notice the eleven or twelve-year-old standing in front of her with his arms crossed and a sullen expression on his face. His mom was standing next to him, tightlipped and tired looking.  

"You can go ahead and sulk all you want Sean, but I am not buying you that game. It's too violent, and it's because I love you."

Sean stood there, not saying a word, then abruptly stomped off.

The woman turned around and met Betsy's reassuring eyes and her supportive smile. 

"Being a parent isn't easy, is it?"

"He'll be back. You're doing great." 

 The woman moved forward in line and checked her items. She packed them in her bag and then motioned for Betsy to take her place.          

As Betsy turned to put her purchased items back into her cart, she glanced up and saw the woman and her son standing together by the door. Betsy waved when the woman gave her a thumbs up.

. 

A slow smile appeared on Betsy's face. Of course, she had done that for her firstborn. She had done her best at the time. Straightening her shoulders, Betsy pulled her cart over to the side. 

 Gathering five dollars from her wallet, she glanced up to smile at the girl in the Santa cap. An identical pair of grey eyes stared back at her. Betsy's smile froze in confusion as she peered into the girls' face.

It was as if she was looking at her fifteen-year-old self. She blinked and wondered if she had just imagined it.

"How, what who?"

"Merry Christmas!" the young girl smiled "Thank you so much.

"What's your name?" asked Betsy tentatively.

"I'm McKenzie ."

"Merry Christmas McKenzie, see you next week." Betsy nodded as she turned and pushed her cart towards the parking lot.