The tea party

“Hey you? What are you doing out here alone in the woods?”

Allison remembered her mother once scolding, “We don’t say hey you. People that say “hey you” haven’t any manners.” And she stuck out her pointer finger abruptly towards Allison the way she always did when she meant business. It wasn’t Allison’s place to talk back, she knew better, so she never told her mother that pointing at people was also in fact considered quite rude.  But her mother was now long gone and manners aside, her goal was to get the attention of the little girl on the other side of the creek.

The little girl looked to be about ten years old and blended quite well with the forest.  It was almost as if she wasn’t there or more like she was an optical illusion. Her hair was the exact color of the paperbark maple behind her; strands of cinnamon straight thin straws.  The clothes she wore could have been peeled from the bark or crawled out of the soil, and her skin was comparable, just a shade or two lighter. There was no way the little girl could not have heard her call, unless she was deaf.  Even if she was deaf, Allison was sure the girl had to know of her presence, because the creek couldn’t be more than ten feet wide. If the water wasn’t so cold and rapid, she would walk into the water, over to the girl, and tap her on the shoulder to get her attention, another thing her mother would most surely say was rude.

One more time. “Hey little girl, can’t you hear me? Do your parents know where you are?” The girl remained stoic and busy with what looked to be a mock tea party.  There was a fallen tree she was using as a table, bark as plates and pine cones for cups, set for four. Allison stood still watching her, captivated, as she slowly sipped from a pine cone, with her dainty pinky pointing towards the sky, gently placing the pine cone down in its proper place, then moving to the next place setting.  It bothered Allison that the girl never once smiled at her imaginary friends, nor did she allow them to sip from their own cup. Why did she feel the need to stand in for them? Immense identifiable sadness floated down from the canopy above them when Alisson presumed this little girl had no concept of friendship, real or imagined.  It didn’t occur to Allison that she could have been watching herself as a young girl. Many a day she had combed these very trails alone since her mother insisted friends were just a waste of time. “We have each other,” she often said sternly, when the subject came up. More than first realized, Alisson felt the need to get to the other side of the creek, to wrap her arms around this child, and then sip some tea and sit with her awhile, even if she insisted on silence.

“This is crazy!” Allison said to herself, “I’m calling 911.”  The absurdity of the scene suddenly engulfed Allison. “Why is this little girl out here alone in the woods!?”  But she couldn’t call; not because she didn’t want to. Allison was raised to do the right thing. It was as if her fingers wouldn’t work, like she was frozen, a part of the oak behind her.  And she wouldn’t consider just walking away, but if she had, she would have found out that her legs were just as frozen as her fingers. It seemed the early morning dew that surrounded her as she entered the woods was drying up, so she was aware of the passing of time, but felt no urgency to be elsewhere.  She was where she was supposed to be and thought of nothing else, when she heard a sound that sounded like an alarm, but where was it coming from? It wasn’t coming from across the creek, it almost felt as if it was next to her head and it was getting louder making her long to cover her ears, but she now realized she was completely paralyzed.  Scared to death of her circumstance, questioning her lung function, her eyes were the only thing that worked as she kept them on the girl. Once again, the girl lifted her pinky towards the sky, sipping slowly, signaling to Alisson the very same action was all she needed to do to break free. With every ounce of energy left within her own shell, Alisson channeled that strength to her own pinky, attempting to move it ever so slightly, knowing the girl’s instruction was going to work.  And when it did, she took a very deep long sombre breath, barely remembering her dream as she turned off the alarm next to her bed.