To the girl I met in the woods:
Today marks the anniversary of the day you saved my life. Part of me wants to think Fate put us by the lakeside intentionally that day, but deep down I know the truth. Fate is cruel and cowardly and never supplies such kindness or sympathy.
Meeting you was a coincidence. A soul-crushingly happy coincidence. But the thing about coincidences is they rarely happen twice and never play out the way you want.
To be honest, I don't think I ever want to see you again. Your eight-year-old grin as you chased your German Shepard through the trees trying to put a flower crown on its head. You must have seen me out of the corner of your eye and wondered what on earth I was doing standing knee deep in the freezing lake water. It was a spring day and the sun was out but the post-winter wind stung bitterly and I must have looked ridiculous.
Looking back, I'm glad you never noticed the rocks crowding the pockets of my jean-jacket. Or if you did you never questioned it... but why would you? In your perfect little head I must've been collecting pebbles to keep as pets or to add to my shoe box of pretty things.
You, yourself had been collecting pebbles. That's what brought you to the lakeside on such a bitter spring day. Your German Shepard splashed me as it ran into the water, escaping your efforts to make him your flower-fairy prince.
I have to admit, seeing your disappointment as you watched from the shore made me smile. I mean properly smile. Not a photograph smile, full of teeth and dripping in contempt but a real smile. The kind where the corner of your mouth twitches upwards and your eyes glitter with euphoria.
That kind of smile I find is rare among adults. I certainly hadn't smiled like that recently. Nor had anyone else I knew. It just felt like nothing was worth that kind of reaction anymore. Everything felt empty.
But then you looked at me. The disappointment vanished, your eyes overcame with mischief and giddiness as you called out to me from the lakeside.
You said something about the temperature of the lake and asked if it was too cold for swimming. Your mother had told you it wasn't warm enough and hadn't let you bring a swimming costume and that had made you sad because swimming is your most favourite-ist thing in the whole world.
I had laughed at that. God it felt good to laugh. I told you it was much too cold for swimming but if you waited a little while longer the temperature would be perfect.
Then you asked why I was stood in the water if it was too cold. Your curious eyes lit up your face; nose and cheeks flushed scarlet by the chill air. I didn't have an answer for that. What could I say? So I said nothing.
I suppose you understood in your innocent brain that something wasn't right. Some sort of intuition we're all born with that tells us when something is wrong. Maybe that's why you beckoned me to come back to shore.
To this day I don't know why I listened to you. But in that moment, I was completely under your childish control. So I waded through the dirty, sand-clouded water until the cold liquid no longer stung my knees. And when I tell you that with every step the already deafening voices in my head screamed louder, I am not exaggerating. Each step felt like hell but I made it out of the lake.
I could look at you properly now. Your locks of frizzy brown hair pulled back by your very own flower crown made of daisies and croucuses. Your eyes glimmering with raw emotion at all points along the spectrum of sad to happy. You were a spitting image of my childhood best friend.
I felt a twinge of sadness at that realization. The memories of her aren't necessarily unhappy, that's not the problem. The problem is they are nothing but memories. But that isn't your fault.
You told me your name was Daisy and held up your flower crown triumphantly like it gave you some sort of magical power.
"Daisy - like the flower! I'm the Queen of Daisies!"
You gestured at the daisies on the sides of your sneakers and along the neckline of your white shirt. I nodded in agreement because I couldn't trust myself to speak.
Every fiber of my being hopes you couldn't tell I was choking back tears. My throat was dry and itchy, my cheeks were flushed with emotion and breathing felt like hell but I still smiled along with your rambling.
Remembering everything you said would be impossible. You spoke with a speed lightning would be envious of but honestly the content of what you said is irrelevant. Each word removed a weight holding my chest down, a weight keeping me at rock bottom, a weight pulling my heart to the floor until suddenly I could breathe.
We ended up sitting by the lakeside, throwing the pebbles from my pockets into the water and arguing gleefully about who made the biggest splash.
You started telling me about the flower-fairy kingdom you'd built up in your head. How you were the Queen and looked after all the flowers in the kingdom and made sure they grew strong and healthy. That's when you held up the second flower crown, the same one your German Shepard had escaped from.
The sun apotheosized the violets intertwined with bouquets of cow parsley. Leaves and stems of jade-green honoring spurts of purple blossom clumsily tied together in a ring of flawless harmony.
You stood up so your small frame towered over me. Holding the crown up as high as your childish arms could reach, you appointed me the flower-fairy Princess of the universe.
That moment was perfect. Even when your beautifully ear-piercing laugh deafened me when your German Shepard came over and shook his long coat, spraying water all over us.
But like I say... it was just a moment. A moment that ended as quickly as it started when your mother called your name from somewhere in the trees. You ran to her excitedly, your German Shepard running happily after you into the shade of the forest.
And then you were gone and I was alone.
If it wasn't for the flower crown I might not have believed you existed at all. That perhaps it was all a figment of my imagination. My brain's final attempt to save itself.
So I wear the crown. The flowers are long dead and the leaves are wilted and falling off but I still wear it.
At night I dance around in my garden, among the mid-March daisies and buttercups wearing your crown. And I wonder if I'll ever see you again. But fate is cruel and coincidences rarely happen twice.
So now, when I'm knee deep and my pockets are full and the water stings my kneecaps - I hope I don't see you.
To the girl I met in the woods:
Thank you for saving my life.
All my love,
Violet, your flower-fairy princess.
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