Bridge to a Distant Star by Carolyn Williford

Watching the retreating water pull at her ankles, seeing the curve of the eroding sand around her feet, finding the pea-sized holes created by tiny clams and shells rolling back into the surf from the wake of the wave—all the familiar sights welcomed her. Helped to soothe her inner turmoil.
    And then she walked. Attempting to shut out all but the smell and feel of the sea breeze and the touch of sand and water on her feet, Maureen sought solace from her God.
    Hours later, the beach was emptying when she noted how much lower the sun had sunk out over the gulf, producing a glorious pink-tinted sky. Families had gathered up kids and belongings, abandoning brightly colored plastic shovels and buckets, various piles of gathered shells. The cries of laughing children were replaced by the insistent cawing of the gulls. A gnawing in her stomach reminded Maureen she’d missed lunch and dinner. Reluctantly, she turned toward home.
    Dusk. Maureen’s favorite time of day. As she hurried home, she stole glimpses into front windows to spy on families together. Often she’d be so intent on looking into a picture window that she’d miss the unevenness of the sidewalk and trip. Maureen smiled at herself, thinking how Bill would have accused her of kravatzing —their family’s made-up word for snooping. Finally spotting the welcoming lights of her own home, Maureen hurried through the back gate, eagerly reached to open the door. It was locked against her. She froze—one hand still clutching the handle, the other pathetically poised to push back the screen—as she took in the highlighted scene in the kitchen.
    They were all laughing together—Bill, Aubrey. Even Colleen. Leaning eagerly toward one another, conspiratorially, their heads nearly touching. The ease and comfort of their banter was near idyllic. Exhibiting none of the tension that had revolved around them lately like a swirling tornado, making family life … miserable.
    Bill had just finished scooping ice cream into their bowls, and was in the process of adding the colorful candy sprinkles on top of their mounds of whipped cream. Aubrey clearly gestured for more and Bill obliged, shaking the canister so hard the top came off—dumping a huge pile that covered her bowl. Colleen erupted with such a burst of laughter that she nearly fell off her chair, Aubrey’s shoulders bounced with delighted giggles, and even Bill laughed so hard that Maureen could hear his hearty roar outside.
    The glow of the lights put a hazy, warm aura around each of their profiles. And as Colleen reached out to touch her dad’s arm … to playfully steal a scoop of the sprinkles from Aubrey … as Bill reached out to caress a raven ponytail, and then an auburn-colored cap of curls, the individual glows molded and melted into one. The three of them, deliciously happy, content. Complete.
    Without her.
    Immobilized, at first Maureen could only blink … and feel the pounding of her heart. And then it felt as though it wrenched painfully inside her chest, and instinctively, she reached one hand toward the source of the pain. The other pulled at the door again. As intense desire moved her to action, she tapped lightly on the door, trying to get her family’s attention. But they were laughing so hard, they didn’t hear her. Don’t want to hear me? she asked herself, realizing she didn’t want an answer.
    Mere seconds went by, but to Maureen, they felt like hours. Heartbroken and unable to move, she watched. A bystander.
    Until Bill happened to glance up and see her. Standing there, arms hanging limply at her sides. Startled, concerned, he jumped from his chair and rushed to the door. “Why didn’t you knock, Mo? Good gracious, you gave me a scare.” When she didn’t answer—didn’t move a muscle, but merely stood there, gawking up at him—he grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her into the bright light of the kitchen. “ Maureen? Are you all right, for God’s sake?”
    Maureen nodded, mumbled,