My shoes crunch against the leaves as my hair falls into my eyes blocking the sunlight, bursting through the trees. The light blue fabric of my dress catches in the wind and brushes gently against my knees. A smile spreads across my face as I look ahead at the path, to a clearing filled with flowers and wispy long grass. As I enter the grass my arms open to my sides like wings and drag along the tips of the surrounding flowers. I then close my eyes and take in the heat of the sun, chill of the wind and softness of the plants against my skin.

Within a quick moment, the heat disappears and the silky grass against my skin abruptly ends. I open my eyes to see the end of the clearing, a shadowed path awaiting me. The sun is blocked by tall trees, with long intertwining branches and a group of gray clouds moving overhead. I make my way onto the path and under the guard of the trees, the only sound is the crunch of my footsteps against the leaves, louder to my ears than before, and the now heavy wind sends a chill over me. I’m completely alone now, unsure of what may be in the future, and for a moment I feel the jarring flutter of nerves. But just as soon as they came, they leave me with the wind.  

***

I’ve felt alone most of my life, despite the loving parents, sister, and our family dog that are always around me. My friends are also close to me, but no matter how much were together I’m still so alone. The feeling washes over me then lies like a brick on my chest, never setting me free, I carry it with me everywhere. There is no explanation to why I’m so lonely, but it’s a feeling I’ve come to accept. Now, instead of feeling crippled by its weight I feel familiar and almost comfortable in its presence. I first came to these woods when I was ten-years-old, I remember walking the curving paths as my tangled thoughts unwound into relaxation. Ever since that day, I’ve come to walk similar paths leading to different places; each day is a new journey to free myself from my thoughts.

The path stays shaded, as it curls around the giant trunks of trees, pulling me deeper into the woods. With all the walking I’m growing tired, but just as I’m about to turn around I spot something, hiding behind the trees. I creep further up the path until the trees reveal a small cottage, crumbling brick with vines all around and tall plants invading surrounding ground. But nothing caught my attention quite as much as the smell of smoke burning in my lungs. I lift my chin upwards, towards the smell and find the source to be the narrow chimney on the worn roof. I’m now confused. Why is the cottage so worn, despite the sign of life within? The nerves return, fluttering up from my stomach, into my chest, and over my shoulders. I try to shake the feeling and tell myself to walk away so the eerie feeling will pass, yet my feet carry me towards the door.

I follow the only path with the absence of overgrown plants and find myself staring at an old oak door stained to be a deep chestnut shade. Still ignoring the suffocating screams of my nerves, I ball my right hand into a fist and raise it in a small wind up, before bringing it against the wood in a knock. The tap rang through the trees, I considered walking away but then I hear the locks unlatching. The doorknob turns and opens to reveal a woman, around mid-forties, with vibrant green eyes, auburn shoulder length hair and a knee-length lavender dress falling over her shoulders and down her body.

A rush of warm air blew across my face, carrying the sweet smell of chocolate chip cookies. Looking past her I scanned the interior of the cottage. The bright orange and blue flames jumped within the stone surrounded fireplace, a plush white rug covering the floor below. A gray couch and two matching chairs were positioned symmetrically around the rug. Paintings lined the slate gray walls, landscapes appearing almost identical to that of these woods. The only other room visible to me from the door was the kitchen. Within the kitchen, the cabinets matched the worn oak door and the counter had the shine of a recent clean along with chocolate chip cookies, steam still twirling in the air above.

I continued to take in the full cottage before me, but I was instantly torn away from the room by the woman still staring at me. Her look was blank yet desperate as she ran her eyes across my face. The wind blew gently through my hair and sent a chill through me. As the chill drained through my feet, I caught the slow change of her expression. Her eyebrows rose, creating hills and valleys of age across her forehead, as her eyes grew wide beginning to shimmer. Then her mouth slowly fell open.

“Emily?” She gasped.

I stood still, as all feeling left my body. I began tracing back through my life, searching for her face in my memories. When my memories came up empty, thoughts flooded in: how could she possibly know my name? I’ve never seen this woman in my whole life.

I tried to find my voice but once I finally did all that came out was,

“Who are you?”

She shook her head and looked towards the floor as if the words she was looking for were carved into the dark oak. Then she pressed her hands against her face, shielding her eyes with so much pressure the surrounding skin turned white. She bent over so her elbows were resting on her knees and took in a deep breath, before lifting her body back to standing straight, while simultaneously peeling her hands from her eyes. Her eyes closed and deeply took in a breath one last time, before meeting my eyes in a tension-filled gaze. Then she spoke.

“My name is Jessica, and I know you may think I’m crazy or playing a trick on you but what I’m telling you next is the truth. I saw it in your eyes when I looked at you, your eyes I’ve never forgotten,” she cried in disbelief.

A lump grew in my throat and the weight of my nerves spread down my arms and into my legs. All I could do was nod, as I had no idea what was to come next.

“Emily,” she muttered shakily, “I’m your biological mother.”

I felt the blood drain from my face and pool in my feet, the feeling spread through my body--disbelief. My heart leaped into my throat and filled my chest with quick booms, exploding in my ears. Heat spread over my face only to be quickly cut off by the rushing wind around me. All I heard was the rustle of the leaves and my deafening thoughts. How can this be real? This woman has to be lying, she can’t be my mother I already have one at home. Nothing is making sense. What do I do? What do I do? The world around me became fuzzy, my only visual was a blend of green, blue and brown from the surrounding woods. Panic swept over me knocking me off my feet in a quick kick to the stomach, I crumbled to the ground holding my knees. As the panic increased, I realized I had only one choice to truly get answers--ask. Calm down, take a breath, find control.

Once my breathing slowed and the world came back into focus I focused on forming the right words. I stood up slowly, pushing the dirt off my dress then carefully began to ask my question,

“Why should I believe you’re my mother?” The words escaped the prison of my mouth they had been locked in, with a croak.

“A mother never forgets her child's eyes as long as she lives,” she shakily exclaimed. “I know your eyes, almond shaped and a perfect gradient of green to brown, with the subtle glimmer of hope.”

The look on her face as she spoke was enough to convince me; her eyes were gentle and her smile spread from one side of her face to the other, softening her features and revealing a dimple on each side. My smile was also always wide with a dimple on each side, unique from that of all my siblings. I stood as the lonely feeling seemed to evaporate into the air around me and descend far away into the sky. A new feeling of completion fell into place as I looked into her eyes, a mirror image of my own, the vibrant green with brown bursting from the pupil then fading out, I realized I’d just found what had always been lacking--my mother.

Words formed behind my lips, “I believe you,” I whispered.

Her eyes filled with the silent sign of pure joy, tears. They rolled over her cheeks and onto her shirt as she held out her hand, I hesitantly put my hand into hers interlacing our fingers. I was met by comfort as if this is where I was supposed to be all along. I tightened my grip and allowed a smile to grow across my face, tears of my own falling to our feet. The sun split through the trees, illuminating the cottage around us, I looked to the sky to see the once dark clouds turned soft and fluffy like cotton balls. Smiling into the sunlight, I went back and searched my memories again, all the times I looked at my sister, with her blue eyes and platinum blonde hair, wondering how we managed to look so vastly different. All the times I talked to my friends and heard them tell me how different I looked from my parents. All the times I met relatives and felt distant or as if I didn’t belong. All the times I felt alone finally made sense as I held hands with my mother walking into the blinding light, to follow a new path.