Reflection

By Caxton Shokunbi

I knew it was time to face my past before it was too late. I ventured off to the water fountain on Chelsea Avenue, which flooded my mind with memories of my mother. I remember it like it was yesterday. We had not gotten along for years since I refused to marry the woman my mom was dead set on me being with forever. That day my mom and I spoke at the fountain. I remember the warm air and the water pouring from the fountain.

   “James, Clarissa is the one for you.” she sternly said. “She treats you well and has your best interest at heart. How can you not see this? I don’t have a lot of time left. I’m pleading for you to marry her.”

   I didn’t know what to think or say. I didn’t have the heart to marry this woman. Instead, I wanted to be with Loraine. She was a woman I had met at my job as an editor for a downtown magazine company many years ago. After Clarissa and I didn’t work out I met Lorraine at a live event. However, my mom preferred Clarissa.

   “Mom, I can’t marry Clarissa,” I told her, knowing this would upset her.

My mom got hysterical and walked off. That was the last time I saw her. Reaching her the two years leading to her death was as impossible as time travel. No matter how much I tried getting in contact it was ignored.

   At 9 am on a cold Tuesday morning I got to the water fountain wearing a leather jacket and holding a silver coin. There were a few people, who also had coins they used to wish for what their souls desired. I looked and wondered what their wishes were at the moment, but knew I had one wish.

   “Please bring her back,” I shouted internally, throwing the coin in the fountain.

   A rush of tears followed, leaving me feeling alone, vulnerable, and full of pain and regret. I wanted my mother back. I wanted to tell her how she inspired and motivated me to be at my best. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and how she was the reason I finished school and became an editor.

   I stayed well into the night, noticing different people coming and going. I felt alone and hopeless, but then something changed. I felt a hand lightly touch my shoulder.

   “Loraine?” I spoke. "How did you know I was here?"

   She looked at me and smiled, “I know when you don’t answer your phone you’re here looking at the angelic fountain at the angels above.”

   She was right. I had this urge to finally move forward with my mother watching over me from the heavens. Yet there was something I needed to do first. I had to meet with Clarissa.

   I woke up the next morning and dialed her number. 3 rings later her familiar cheerful voice answered.

   “James?” She sounded shocked to hear my voice”

   “Clarissa, we need to meet at the Coffee shop three blocks west of Chelsea Ave,” I replied.

   “What is the occasion,” She questioned.

   “My mother,” I said.

   We sat at the table far in the back of the quiet coffee shop. Both of us awkwardly looked at each other for several minutes in silence, not knowing what to say. The last time we saw each other we were madly in love and my mom was still alive.

   We both met in college many years ago. Both of us had liberal arts majors. She went into journalism, and I went into English. We met freshman year in English 101. I still remember us leading a project where our group had to each write a page of a group story. Our theme? Love. Our teamwork was incredible as our group had the highest grade in the class. Soon after, I asked her out and we dated for the rest of my undergraduate studies.

   Post college our lives got busy. I became an editor, and she got her first big break for a major news station as a reporter. Life got so busy the romance got away and we broke up. The crappy part about it all was I was ready to marry her, and the night we broke it off I remember my mom telling me to work it out, but it just wasn’t going to happen. We had grown too far apart.

   “My mother loved you,” Words finally left my mouth. “She saw me with you for the rest of my life. She would go on about you and I having children and watching them as a grandparent.

   “She was a sweet woman.” She smiled. She made the best mint cookies, and always made me feel welcomed.

   I smiled back, still taken away from her green eyes, “Yes, my mom and her baking never went wrong.”

   After a few more minutes of small talk, we got into an intense discussion about what went wrong in our relationship.

   “What do you think went wrong with us?” I questioned, nervously tapping my left leg.

   “Life,” She told me. “Life, and the trials and tribulations we go through each day. Life has a weird way of giving us curve balls. Sometimes we can see these curve balls, but others strike out. Nothing you did wrong, James. I know your mother wanted us to get married and was devastated when we didn’t work out, but it’s not your fault. Same way her sickness was not your fault. Whether we worked out, curve balls would still be around the corner, and that is okay.”

   I thought for a second and responded, “You’re right, whether I want to admit it or not.” I wish I had the certainty and confidence to tell my mom exactly what you just said when she was alive. It eats me up each day”

   She looked at me with the same look the night we mutually ended our relationship, put her hand on my upper palm, and told me, “Your mom knows, and I promise she is not upset at you, me, or us not working out. Moving forward is what she would have wanted.”

   I reminisced one last time about my mother and me, sitting at the fountain on Chelsea Avenue with a coin in hand and a wish in mind.

The End