Suddenly, she found herself standing in her bedroom. The room was pebbled with patches of moonlight, the avocado colored walls turned charcoal in the darkness, heavy wood furniture lined the walls looming like mountainous deep shadows. The carpet felt soft and cool under her bare feet. The large mirror on the dresser reflected what light was spilling through the window. The mirror stood like a vast pool of liquid against the wall pushing deep into the charcoal paint. She reached out to touch the mirror half expecting her hand to pass through it's fluid appearance into some unknown dimension. She only felt the cold smooth surface of the glass on the tips of her fingers. She stood there with her fingers still touching it and a distant memory deep from the core of her brain stirred, she closed her eyes and let it come...
A frosted window, her gaze long and serious, her fingertips tingling with delight from the feeling of the icy glass. The chilled surface stood in great contrast to the warm yearning that was emanating from her eyes as she peered through this winter portal. The sprawling old oak just beyond the window was standing ominously in a sea of white, it's branches gnarled, entwined, dark, spider-like and brittle from the weight of their ice. Such a fragile extension of life in the dead of winter. Then she watched as the ice miraculously melted away and the tree transformed, the gleaming ice that once covered the branches was replaced with leaves of green and foliage so thick she wondered at all the animals that would make this tree their home. She heard laughing in the wind, felt the warm air brush against her body, she could feel the roughness of this tree's trunk against her palm and almost tasted the oak pollen in the air.
She knew she wanted to remember more, she wanted to know why this tree had meaning, why she felt this heated yearning and sadness when she peered through that window, but something stopped her, she could go no further. She opened her eyes and pulled her chilled fingers away from the mirror, staring at her hand like it was no longer a part of her. She turned to sit in her grandmother's old rocking chair near the window. She stared out at the moonlit sky, a wash of memory pieces flooding over her...the laughter, the warm wind, and then his smile. She turned back to the mirror expecting to see him staring back at her, beckoning to her. Instead, she saw them dancing and chasing each other around that oak tree, laughter and squeals in the air, leaves rustling in the warm wind. Then in an instant they were gone. The leaves fell to the ground and the snow began to fall and all at once the tree had gone barren, it stood once again ice-covered, still and alone.
A cold shiver brought her back to reality, she could see the shape of her husband's body sleeping on their bed and could hear his slow, heavy, even breathing. She climbed back into bed wondering why she had been up in the first place, welcoming the warmth and softness of the blankets. Just before she fell asleep one fleeting word entered her mind..."Adam", and then she gave way to her exhaustion.
