The wooden cross

The wooden cross

The radio is on, music in the morning makes me smile. My morning commute to work is 45 minutes one way everyday. I have time to think about what I’m going to make for supper, think about the deadlines at work, thinking about my last conversations with friends and co-workers. One might say I have a squirrel brain, thinking over thinking things and checking lists more than once. 

Then in the same spot everyday at 8:30am, something catches my eye in the review mirror. I shake my head and wonder why this keeps happening. Today I stopped at the side of the road and stopped my car and looked around. My heart feels like it is beating out of my chest, beads of sweat trickle down my face and burn my eyes while I look around frantically.

I look in the review mirror and see nothing. Shaking my head while putting the car in drive I move forward reluctantly. All I see is a farmhouse, long patches of corn fields and fences. I take this way to work as it takes a few minutes off of my commute not to mention much less busy. 

I see it again! Stop the car, this time jump out quickly and look around. What is going on I say outloud as if someone could hear me. The road ahead and behind with cornfields is all I see. I jump into the car and try to avoid the mirror, the reflection makes me panic but keep driving.

The reflection is a young child standing on the side of the road with white torn clothes waving at me. She is a girl with long dark hair, her eyes almost glowing like a cats green eyes in the dark. She looks lost, very sad, and my heart aches for her. The image is burned into my brain and could easily sketch her if I really tried. The time has passed, and the radio seems to distract me enough to keep driving. On my way home I decide to take the same route instead of taking a detour to pick up my daughter from school. My husband was picking her up today. 

The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I pass a small cross on the side of the road. I have never seen it before because my commute to work is heading east, but on the way back I never go the same way. I continue to go home and feel haunted, I sneak a peak in the mirror and see nothing.

I decided to tell my husband about what I see everyday, and how it makes me feel so sad, fearful, and curious. I told him that some days it consumes my day thinking about that little girl, almost the same age as our daughter. He asked me to sketch her and he would see what he could do to find out information about the girl in the review mirror. My husband is a police officer, and likes to investigate things like this. He also said that the small cross could be a decoy  in a child kidnapping senerio. I gave him the sketch in the morning as I worked on it all night. 

As I drive by the spot this morning the reflection in the mirror was the little girl waving. I stop the car once again, look around and she is gone. Today I felt sad,   what If  she is a girl running and can only get so far and I keep missing her. Thinking about her and my daughter and would hope that someone would stop for her if she was ever taken. 

I took the same way back to look at the little cross to see if their was a name, a date, or any clue to who the little girl was. The tiny cross made of two very old pieces of wood nailed in the centre had nothing on it. I did feel strange when I touched it though, it is hard to explain but deep sadness fell over me while I looked around for any more clues. There were no footprints in the tall grass on either side of the road, no skid marks, nothing.

When my daughter and husband came into the house today I was sitting at the table staring off into space thinking about the little girl. My husband put his hand on my shoulder and passed me an envelope. He sat across from me while I opened it. On the left side of the folder was a photo of the little girl that I sketched last night. 

I said, “it’s her, what’s her name? Is she ok?”

He looked at me then at the folder and said, “honey keep reading”.

The papers on the right side were stacked up and there was a newspaper clipping about an accident ten years ago on the side road I take everyday. A family of three was hit by an on coming vehicle at 8:30 in the morning. The truck driver fell asleep and hit the car head on. I looked at the article and tears ran down my face. 

My husband called our daughter into the kitchen and explained to her why a I was crying. My daughter hugged me and said “mommy, why don’t we make something to hang on the old wooden cross?”

I looked at her with a smile and said softly, “ that is a wonderful idea, I bet Kassey would like that.” She was so thoughtful and was a thinker just like me.

She drew a picture of trees, bunnies, birds, and a sun. In the middle of the picture she drew a girl holding a butterfly and a bird. On the bottom she put Rest In Peace Kassey, and added the date of the accident. She asked if I could put Mac tac on the drawing so it wouldn’t get wrecked by he weather and we put a string through a tiny whole. The three of us drove out to the spot where the cross was. My daughter hung the pretty bright thoughtful gift on the cross. My husband and I walked away towards the car and I could hear my daughter talking.

She ran to us, grabbed my hand and said, “mommy, Kassey loves the picture”.

I looked down at her smiled and said, “I’m sure she does it’s beautiful, great job honey”. We held hands walking in silence towards the vehicle. Before she jumped in the back seat, my daughter looked towards the cross, she waved and said “goodbye Kassey, see you again one day”

The next day on my drive to work I looked in the review mirror at 8:30am and there was no reflection today. I smiled and said out loud in my car, “rest in peace Kassey” and turned down the radio and smiled.