Over a Cup Of Hot Chocolate

I step out of the portal, “Woah - it really is like time travel.” I look around at a version of my town that has long faded from memory.

“Don’t forget ma’ma you only have an hour.” the man in a suit smiles at me.

I look in the window of the chain coffee shop I still frequent. She is there, fidgeting nervously, she is in bright teal skinny jeans, with a cute white sweatshirt with a big pink heart on the front. Her long hair reaches well past the middle of her back. I remember the weight of that hair, and how hard it was to manage. For a brief moment, I see my reflection overtop of her, oh how different we are. “Has she been here long?”

“She was 20 minutes early, but you knew she would be.” He smirks.

“And yes, I was still five minutes late.” I straighten up and put my hand on the door.

“Remember, nothing that happens here changes anything that happened after this visit.” he gives me a nod and I head in.

As soon as I open she looks up and we lock eyes, I can already tell she is shocked I kept her waiting. I watch her look me over. She takes in my bright pink blazer, black t-shirt and wide-leg jeans. Her eyes stop at my hair, I watch them go wide, it’s short now, and he hates short hair. Her eyes flick to my left hand, no wedding ring, her face falls, and I take a seat. She timidly hands me a hot chocolate, some things never change.

She looks at me and her face holds a million questions, and I can’t answer any of them, instead, I slide a few stories across the table, and she looks up at me, “We wrote these?” I nod, she flips from page to page, “Does mom like them?”

I smile, “She’s our biggest fan.” I laugh, “Though our best friend might give her a run for her money.”

Looking up from the pages I wrote to help her heal, “We get better?” her voice holds hope.

I lean forward, I could tell her it’s gets worse before it gets better, or that things will get dark, or how we almost walk away from the light, but I don’t. “We do, and you’ll help others along the way.”

She reads those few stories over and over as if she is trying to burn them into her brain, I only wish she could keep them with her when things get hard, it might have made things easier.

Soon our hour comes to an end and I reach across the table and place my hand atop hers, “Hey, you’re enough.”

She gives a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “I know.” She whispers, and I know she doesn’t believe me, I wouldn’t have either.

I lean in, “And you're not too much, you never have been and you never will be. You don’t need to take up less space to be loved.” She pulls her hand away and hides behind a sip of her drink.

I get up first. “Thank you for meeting me.” I turn where the man in the suit waits to take me back through a portal to a life she hasn’t even started to dream of yet.

But before I leave I hear the faint whisper, “Thank you for the reminder.”