The Memories Nature Holds

The air was thick and warm, as bodies pushed against each other and voices raised over one another. Rosalie weaved through swarms of people, clutching her purse to her chest. She frantically searched up and down the narrow walkway for her station number. At last, it caught her eye. Her breath was ragged as she strode over and slipped her ticket from out of her pocket. She approached the burly man who stood blocking the trains cabin door, his face hardened into a scowl. Rosalie slipped the man her ticket as he peered over his glasses to check her number.

“Name?!” he demanded, spit flying from his mouth.

Rosalie ducked her head. “Anna Hayley, sir” she squeaked, afraid to meet his eyes.

She felt sick to her stomach as she waited for the man to wave her on. Every lie was the same. Rosalie had no choice but to find work to stay above water. Faking her identity never became easier, but she could not deny that it was her only choice. So, as she fed the man a fake name, she tried to suppress her trembling hands.

“People are waiting!”

Rosalie jumped, glancing at the man with apologetic eyes. The train conductor glared down at her, sticking her ticket under her nose. Feeling flushed, Rosalie slipped the ticket back into her pocket and hurried up into the train cabin. She slid the door open, and noise overwhelmed her. Families were scattered across seats, bags strewn across the floor. Rosalie quietly made her way to an empty corner, attempting to keep to herself. This fell through immediately.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” a voice spoke directly behind her.

Rosalie tensed, incredibly on edge, as she turned to see who had spoken. Her mouth fell open. Staring quizzically at her, carrying a purse just like her own, was a woman several years older. The woman turned pale and stood up straight. Rosalie’s eyes scanned over her; shock written all over her face. Although she could barely recall what she looked like, she was even more beautiful than she remembered. Her long, straight hair fell carefully over her shoulders, a dirty blonde that almost became gold in the sun. She had full lips and bright eyes, and she was adorned in the finest clothes. Although the most comforting feature, was that she still looked exactly like Rosalie.

“Mom?” Rosalie whispered, her voice shaking.

The woman’s eyes widened as if offended, as she held tighter to her purse.

“I’m sorry, you have the wrong woman” she spoke through her teeth, as she turned around to leave.

Rosalie fell forward to jump to her feet, but instead her purse tipped over and hit the ground. Everything spilled out across the floor, rolling to stop at the woman’s feet. She stopped without turning around and looked at what had landed between her heels. She caught her breath, and the entire cabin seemed to follow suit. There, sitting face-up on the floor, lay a wallet-sized picture, with mold living on the corners of the film. The woman slowly stooped down to pick it up, without taking her eyes off it. She hesitated, then turned to face the breathless Rosalie who sat still on the floor, uncertainty in her eyes.

“Where did you get this?” the woman asked, her hand holding the picture just a little too tight. Rosalie’s eyes caught the picture she held, and she brought her eyes to the woman’s.

“Home…I keep it in my purse.” Rosalie spoke, not bothering to continue gathering the remnants of her purse. She stayed on her knees, afraid to move from the moment. “It’s my mother and I”, she whispered, finally breaking her eye contact. She was suddenly very interested in what was going on outside the window.

“Rosalie.” The woman’s voice was thick, as tears rose to rim her eyes.

Rosalie froze. The woman made her way to where she was sitting. Rosalie felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to meet the woman’s eyes again. The woman’s hand fell to her cheek, her hands gentle. Rosalie shut her eyes and inhaled deep, as tears squeezed out of her eyes. The woman smelled of the flowers from home so many years ago. She remembered spring mornings, so early that the fog was just rising, and the dew still sat on the grass. Her and her mom surrounded by flowers, cutting them for the dining room table. This was before her dad left. Before her family fell apart and her mom could no longer provide for Rosalie. Rosalie had never forgotten this happy memory, and as her mom cupped her chin and smiled down at Rosalie, she felt a twinge of hope again. She felt the love of the mom who had once made these memories with her, not the mom who had lost her will to fight for her daughter. Rosalie finally felt like she had someone.

“Mom.” She choked out, afraid to stay in her memories as her mom stood so real in front of her.

Rosalie’s mom fell to the ground and embraced her, wrapping her arms around Rosalie’s neck. Rosalie’s tears soaked through her mom’s floral dress. Her heart hurt with joy and regret. She was back with her mom, yet she had missed so many years. Her body shook with sobs as she held onto her mom.

“I SAID THIS IS THE LAST STOP!”

Rosalie fell back in shock, falling onto her hands. The train conductor stood over her, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes wild.

“I’m so sorry!” Rosalie wiped the tears on her cheek with the corner of her dirty jacket, quickly standing with her purse against her chest again. Her eyes raked over the cabin, now empty expect for her, her mom, and the conductor. She felt a hand on her arm, pulling her towards the door. Her mom had pulled herself together, striding to the exit with Rosalie’s arm in her hand. Rosalie nodded at the conductor as he scowled her way, then fell into place behind her mom. Rosalie took the exit steps slowly, not quite sure where they would be, as she had surely missed her stop. The sun fell through as the train door slid open, and Rosalie’s heart nearly stopped. There, covering the expanse of mountains, were thousands of the flowers that her and her mom used to pick years ago. Rosalie stood impossibly still, feeling so small where she was. The cool breeze blew her hair behind her, and the sun warmed her skin. Her mom stood beside her, facing the mountains just the same. She turned to Rosalie and smiled sweetly. Rosalie realized suddenly that her mom had held on to the same memory. Although she had been fighting to stay alive so many years, she felt as if she had made it. She had never felt more alive than she did in this moment. Rosalie reached for her moms’ hand and she could not help but smile. She had forgotten how beautiful life could be when you were with the ones you loved the most.