by Kelly Okoniewski 

I didn’t start my day sitting on the edge of a nauseatingly high bridge, but here I am. As I look over the edge, my feet appear suspended in mid-air over the water rushing below. I am momentarily jealous of the river. It flows with purpose. It has somewhere to go. It doesn’t even know I am here, hovering above it, about to become a part of it.

I look upriver a bit. I see the rocks breaking the water. The impact will be clean. I won’t feel a thing. My shoelace taps on the metal crossbar as I swing my feet, watching them tease the air. A bird cries, and I wonder if it felt the ache in my chest so heavy that it weighed down its wings.

I move closer to the edge and feel my stomach flip with the unsteadiness of my purchase on the wooden boards. The wind whips hair into my face, causing my nose to itch. If I let go and itch it, I might accomplish my goal sooner than I am ready to. And when have I ever done that? I breathe out and close my eyes, trying to think of something to say: a prayer or a final thought.

The brightness of the sun dims, and I open my eyes to see a shadow form beside me. A little girl sits down. She looks to be about five, wearing a blue dress stained with dirt and socks that sag on top of her worn sneakers like aging skin.

“Hi,” she says.

I look at her and the river below and panic. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous this high.” I look around and see no one but us. “Where is your mom? Does she know you are here?”

“No one knows I am here,” she says as she pulls her dress over her knees. Blood seeps through the blue material, creating a purplish hue. She picks pebbles out of a wound on her elbow with tiny, strong fingers. Her long, sun-streaked hair blows rhythmically in sync with the wind.

“What happened to you?” I ask. A feeling of love for this child comes from nowhere, and all I can think about is getting her away from the edge.

“I was trying to put a bird back into its nest, and I fell out of the tree.” She pulls up her dress to reveal a nasty gash on her knee.

Instinctively, I grab my sweatshirt and wrap it around the wound. I smile inwardly at the image of her climbing the tree with a baby bird. That is the kind of stuff I used to do as a kid.

 “You might need stitches. You should show your mom so she can take you to the doctor to have it looked at.”

The little girl shrugs. “I’ll be ok. Mom will be mad I fell. It will heal by itself.”

I take the sweatshirt away to see a fresh trickle flow down her leg and stain the saggy sock. “That will leave a nasty scar if you let it heal on its own.”

“Like that one,” she says, pointing at my knee.

“Just like that one,” I say.

“Why are you here?” she asks me with sadness that weighs down each word like a humid day.

I get an odd feeling she knows why I am here, and all of a sudden, I feel embarrassed by it. My lips parted to respond, but nothing comes out.

“My mom never knows where I am, and she doesn’t care either.” The little girl wipes her cheek as she says this and sniffs back emotion. My heart aches for her. I remember my mom being the same way.

“Well, I care,” I say as I reach for her hand.

She squeezes mine back, and I feel all right for the first time in a long time. I am surprised when she stands and takes a step closer to the edge.

“No!” I scream and pull her toward me. I have never loved anyone more in my life than I do this child at this moment.

“Isn’t this what you want?” The little girl asks.

“Why would I want you to die? It’s me who is making this decision. You should go home.”

“I go where you go,” says the little girl. “You are home.”

I stare at her, confused. Then I remember the day I fell from a tree and scraped my knee. I felt so happy that day. It was damp, and everything smelled alive and wonderfully earthy. The bird’s little chest rapidly rose and fell as I held it. The creature’s little feathers tickled my dirty hand as I placed it into the nest. I went to step on a branch and missed, landing on my left side. My knee and elbow bled for hours, and my dress was caked with dirt. My blue dress that mom told me to keep clean.

My blue dress.

I looked down at the little girl, and she wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back with all of my being. Her form vanished into the ether, but I felt her presence strong inside of me.

I walked back to my car, not knowing where I was going, but knowing wherever it was, I was going there with love for myself and love to give.

Photo by Henrik Dønnestad on Unsplash