As I follow the two fairies down severals halls and up three flights of stairs, I can hear the excitement from their wings echo throughout the halls. They sound like flapping wings from hummingbirds. The sound was mythical and soothing to me, almost as soothing as wind chimes on a cool spring day. When we reached what was presented as my room door. My heart skipped a beat. My nerves started to kick in again and I didn't know why. Maybe because I was unsure what lied behind the fine oak door with golden frame. I took in a deep breath and slowly released it hoping that it will help pull myself together. It was just a room with no one in it. I can handle that, it's not like theres a bunch of people inside. I smile as politely as possible assuring Poppy and Trixi, I was ready to enter.
Once the door opened the smell of vanilla lavender sent my senses in overdrive and a flash back flooded my memory...
(FLASHBACK)
I was a child maybe about five years of age and I am lying in bed with my mom. She is holding me and I can smell her perfume flood my nose. It wasn't strong, it was warm and relaxing.
"Mommy, why do you smell so good?"
I ask while digging my face more into her neck.
She lets out a giggle.
"Because I bathe with vanilla and lavender. It's the best combination."
"I agree."
"Oh, do you?"
She replies while tickling my tummy.
(Flashback ends)
"Is everything okay Miss Clarke?"
Asks Poppy concerned with my sudden pause.
I blink frantically, snapping myself back to reality.
"Yes, yes. Everything is okay."
I confirm.
Just then I noticed something hanging over the headboard of the white canopy bed. I rush over and trace my hands against the strings of a huge white dream catcher. It was exactly identical to the one my mom made with me when I was younger. The white crystals in it caught the sunlight from the balcony and the the reflection of the sun danced round the room so elegantly. I remember like it was only yesterday when we made the identical dream catcher. I remember my mom told me how she had one just like it over her bed growing up and she wanted me to have one too. I also, remembered asking her what ever happened to her dream catcher, just like any nosy seven year old would and she told me...
(FLASHBACK)
"Because I left it home."
"Why?"
"Just never had time to pack it up."
"So, why don't you get it now?"
"Because, it's just too far from my reach now."
"Oh, that's sad."
"Yeah, I guess you can say that."
"Well, you can use mine whenever you want Mommy."
She tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
"Aren't you my sweet girl."
(FLASHBACK ENDS)
"Whose room was this prior?"
I question.
Poppy and Trixi, look back and forth between each other. Both looking hesitant to respond.
Trixi clears her throat.
"Well, it was your mothers Miss."
"This was my moms room?"
"Yes, Miss. Everyone gets their parents room. It tradition."
I felt my heart sink.
"Everything in this room was my moms?"
"Yes, just as she left it. We have not moved nor changed anything in it."
Says Poppy.
I look around overwhelmed with happiness and sorrow. It was a bittersweet moment, I did not know how to respond to the emotions I am feeling. I have been in the hearts chamber, but that was meant for every heart not just my mom. But this room was different. It was like a part of her still filled the air and I haven't felt this close to her in a long time. Her essence lingered all over and I wanted to lay down and cry with joyful pain.
"Would you like us to give you a moment to adjust Miss Clarke?"
Asks Poppy.
"Yes, please."
I respond holding back tears.
I wait until they are both out of the room to finally let a tear drop. I force myself to fight back the rest of my tears, because I knew once I started I would never be able to stop. I look down at the nightstand next to her bed, there lied a book. I grab it and sit at the edge of the bed. She always told me she read this book before bed and that's why she read it to me everything. 'The Wizard of Oz' was her favorite and it eventually became mine. I press the book between my arms and chest, embarrassing it in a hug. I closed my eyes and I can hear her voice reading to me.
(FLASHBACK)
"OH, NO! I AM MELTING!"
She reads as she acts out the wicked witch.
"Yeah, that's what you get! You wicked old witch!"
I yelled out.
(FLASHBACK ENDS)
I would always say that as if I did not know the ending already. I smile at that memory, those times were so simple and perfect. I set the book back where I found it. I turn to see a fancy room divider and hanging from it was a champagne silk robe. I remove the robe and I press to my nose. The essence of vanilla lavender flood my nose again and I bury my face into it....
(FLASHBACK)
"Mommy, I love your robe it's so smooth."
Says a six year old me after hugging my mom.
"That's because the fabric is silk."
"I love silk! I want one just like it!"
"Oh, you do, do you?"
"Yes! The same color and everything. So I can be just like you."
"Well, maybe one day you will."
She says smiling and poking the tip of my nose.
(FLASHBACK ENDS)
I press and robe against my lips trying not to breakdown. In so many ways my mom give me hints about things in my life that I never noticed until now. With shaking hands I place the robe back from where it hangs as if it was awaiting my arrival to wear it someday.
Besides the room divider is a vanity I run my fingertips across its cold porcelain surface, shockingly there isn't a pinch of dust. I sit in the Victorian white and gold leaf chair and sit down. I look in the mirror wondering how many times has my mom done this? Sit here and put her make on? Or bush her hair? I look down at the bush that sits unused in god knows how long. I look closely analyzing the brush, I can't believe my eyes. I noticed a strand of golden blond hair sticking out of the bristle. With one hand I pick the brush up and with the other and slowly pull it out from its tangled web...
(FLASHBACK)
I am brushing my mother's long golden her, it shines as the sunlight from the room window hits it. It's so pretty and different than my dark hair.
"Mommy, how come your hair is so pretty like gold and mine is so dark like night?"
"Because, I have hair like my mom and you have hair like your father."
I never heard mommy speak of daddy before, I don't know what to say.
"I wish I had hair like you?"
"Why? I love your raven hair. It's beautiful just like you."
"Was my dad beautiful too?"
"Yes, he was."
I hesitate to ask more questions mommy tends to get angry when I ask about my dad.
"Do I look like him too?"
"In many ways yes, and in others no. Let's just say you are a perfect mixture of both."
"When can I meet daddy?"
"Ava, we spoke about this."
"Can I at least know his name?"
"When you are old enough I will tell you everything you want to know about him, okay?"
"Promise?"
I questions holding out my little pinky for a pinky promise.
She entwines her with mine.
"Cross my heart."
(FLASHBACK ENDS)
She never got to keep that promise and the thought sadness me. What if no one knows who he is not even him. I may never find out who my father is. And that's if he is even alive. Knowing my luck I am an orphan. Maybe, that's why it was a touchy subject for her. Maybe, talking about it made him being gone real? I look at myself in the mirror once again.
"Well, that is one thing I may never know."
I tell myself.