What Happened to Aria’s Mom?

Raindrops pinged against the lone, galvanized bucket beside the front door. The fog slowly coasted, inches above the dew-soaked grass. Nothing made a sound; the silence was deafening. It’s almost as if time had stopped.
The leaves on the trees signaled the coming of fall as a golden hue ignited their tips. A slight chill in the air caused Aria’s shoulders to shake as she rested her arms on the fence, which seemed to go on forever in every direction. Her light brown hair, which reminded everyone of a melted Caramel candy, was tossed carelessly in a messy bun on her head, while the curly tendrils that lined her temples swayed back and forth every time the breeze picked up.

She sighed, her breath evident on this cold August morning. The birds were barely awake yet, but she was wide awake and unable to sleep. That had been the case for six months since that fateful day. The day her mother, the person she was reminded of every time she looked in the mirror, went out for a run and never returned. Aria remembered that day like it was yesterday; the events of that day were on a recurring cycle in her brain. She remembered everything she said, everything she did that afternoon.

It was an unusually warm afternoon in February.

Her mom usually went to the gym three times a week, but she figured today was warm enough to run the trails behind their homestead in Kentucky. Aria remembered smiling and waving goodbye, not thinking that that was the last time she would say I love you. The door slammed shut, a sound that Aria couldn’t get out of her head. She jumps now and then if she isn’t prepared for the shutting of a door.

A tear rolled down her cheek as the memories came flooding in, fast and furious. As it dropped to the ground in slow motion, Aria turned her head to the trailhead behind their house and whispered, “I shouldn’t have let you go, Mom.” She turned the other way and took in the breathtaking views of the mountains surrounding their property. On any other day, she would have been in awe. Not this morning; not any morning since that day.

On that day, six months ago precisely, Aria remembered the sunny afternoon leading to evening, and her mom was still not back. Her dad had gotten home from work and asked where she was, and Aria wished more than anything that she could have given him a concrete answer. She remembered the growing anxiety and panic when evening turned into midnight, and she still was not back.
Her dad called the police, and an innocent run turned into a thirty-six-hour rescue mission.

Almost two days after her mom had left the house, they recovered her body at the bottom of a ravine.

The same ravine they had gone and picnicked at just two weeks before. The police revealed that she probably slipped on some melted ice at the ravine’s edge and fell. Nobody could tell her why her mom was so close to the edge.

Maybe it was because she saw some wildlife that she had to get a picture of, or she just wanted to rest for a while and dangled her feet over the edge, not knowing a thin sheet of ice sat beneath her. Whatever had happened, the police had ruled it an accident, and her dad had to break the news to her—the worst day of her life. Now, six months later, Aria was trying to figure out how to live in a world without her mom.

She gripped the splintering fence a little harder at that moment to bring her back to reality. The crushing weight of anxiety and panic threatened to steal her breath if she didn’t take control soon. The memories of her mom tended to do that to her. Aria couldn’t wait until she was at a point where the happy memories of her mom didn’t send her into a panic attack either.

Once her breathing had returned to normal, she swiped at the tears that had coated her cheeks in a salty mess.

She glanced at her watch and realized it was six o’clock in the morning, and she had been up for three hours. Her shift at the local diner started soon, and she needed to prepare. Her dad would be up and moving around the house, preparing to start the farm chores.

Their hired farmhands, Silas and Ezra, had already pulled up to their house an hour ago and started cleaning the aisle ways and putting the hay bales where they belonged. They had gotten a shipment last night, and her dad wanted to only bother with it this morning. Silas and Ezra had both given her a surprised expression when they saw her out before daybreak. Aria turned her head quickly. They didn’t need to see why.

They all had been so close before her mom died. She considered them second fathers; she babysat for all their kids. Now, she barely spoke to them. She needed room to grieve, and she couldn’t be around them when all they wanted to talk about was if she was okay or how much her eyes reminded them of her late mother. She knew they meant well, but she got enough reminding every time she looked in the mirror.

A rooster crowed that snapped Aria out of the constant string of memories.

She knew she needed to put on a brave face for her dad, who was also doing what he could to get through the day. She was all he had. She couldn’t have him worrying about her, too.

She brushed away the stray hair pieces against her scalp and turned away from the fence. She walked back towards the house, her socks soaked by the time she got there from the thin fabric on her shoes doing nothing to keep her feet dry. Aria climbed the steps to their front door and stepped on the landing of the wraparound porch that surrounded their entire house. When they moved here, Aria’s one request was to have a wraparound porch where she could drink her mom’s homemade lemonade and watch the sunset. They had only been able to see one together.

She shook her head as if trying to rid her mind of the all-consuming memories. She had had enough of them for one day.