It began about a month after Miranda left for her sophomore year at UCLA. She loved it out there saying she had the beach, ocean and mountains surrounding her and "it never got too cold". At age 19, Miranda had grown into a beautiful and very talented young woman. Not only an aspiring fashion designer, she also proved to be very crafty with a sewing machine and a pair of pinking sheers; her wardrobe consisting mostly of her own creations. Tall, thin, with Eric's crystalline blue eyes and my auburn hair, Miranda could easily model her designs professionally. I'd often think how proud her father would be!
Robin Shea, Miranda's " significant other " as she so puts it, a sharp young architect, was in the process of drafting blueprints for a house he was to build in Malibu at the time. Call it intuition, but I knew then it was to be their future home. I also know Robin to be the wonderful man Miranda proclaims him to be. It took only their first holiday visit to see the love and respect they both share. Perhaps it's just a matter of a mother's instinct, but their devotion to one another was instantly plain to see.
On the evening of her departure, Miranda and I spent a brief time in the airport's coffee shop until it was time for her to board her plane.
"So, Mom," she mused, "don't you think it's time you to start getting a life?"
"Excuse me," I chuckled, "but I have enough of 'a life' for two people! What, with you and my work----"
"Mom, I'm barely here and your work is wonderful, really, but you're entirely too wrapped up in it. When was the last time you were out on a date?"
"There's no one I'm interested in Miranda," I said looking down at the table stirring my coffee. "Your father's a tough act to follow."
"It's been almost ten years!" she pleaded. "Dad wouldn't want you to be alone. I know he wouldn't! You're still young enough and very attractive."
"Young enough for what!?" I said now looking at her wide-eyed.
"Well, for whatever two consenting adults might want to, ah, do!" she replied with a playful grin.
"Miranda!"
I felt my cheeks flush.
"Okay, okay," she laughed. "I'm sorry I embarrassed you. Seriously though, it saddens me to think of you being alone. There's nothing immoral about having male companionship, Mom. Promise me you'll at least keep an open mind. Please?"
"Honey, I truly don't feel alone. Even when you're not here in the flesh, you're right here in my heart. Knowing you're happy, safe and heading towards a brilliant future with Robin and your career is more than fulfilling. Just stay away from those fault lines! Besides, I happen to love my work."
"Mother...c'mon..."
"Alright, alright," I lied. "I will."
"Terrific!"
As we walked through the terminal towards the gate, Miranda's arm clutched through mine, we reflected on our past weeks together, talked about her upcoming school year and thoughts I'd been tossing around for my next book.
"I've been toying with the idea of going back about four or five centuries to the times of the Tudor in England. Castles with secret passages and chambers are still standing in the countryside of Kent. With all the heresey and witch burnings, I see possibilities for an interesting gothic romance."
"Sounds positively wicked, but be sure not to work by the fireplace this time!" she teased. We both laughed outloud.
While Miranda and I were saying our goodbyes, hugging eachother tightly she whispered,
"Remember Mom, think testosterone!"She turned around for a last look with a lovely, bright smile and a wave goodbye, then was off. I gazed through the gate's window until her plane was a flicker of blinking lights in the night's sky. I felt hollow; a mere husk of a human being. When I got home I fell onto my bed and cried myself into a deep, dreamless sleep.
"You don't give up!" I said managing to squeeze a smile through the tears.
"On you? Never!" she said, her eyes welling.
"Take good care baby. I'll see you and Robin over the Christmas holidays. Call me when you get in. I love you!"
"I love you too, Mom."
I awoke startled in the wee hours of the morning by the continual ringing of the telephone. I had previously set the ringer on high and turned off the answering machine because I didn't want to miss Miranda's call. It was indeed her, informing me of her safe arrival to LAX with Robin there to meet her. Relieved, I fell back to sleep. The following morning as with most mornings to come the next month, I woke up heavy-hearted. My sleep had become restless from disturbing dreams, but as soon as I'd awaken I couldn't remember them. I knew they were partially due to my missing my daughter something fierce and the upcoming anniversary of Eric's death, but there was something more and I had no clue as to what it was.
I take annual sabbaticals from mid-summer till the Autumn months allowing me to have more time with Miranda while she's home and to clear my mind of residuals from my last project. It was now becoming time to start laying the groundwork for my next manuscript. Soon I would be searching the internet, the local libraries, setting up interviews and even traveling to parts unknown for my research, but not until Eric's anniversary had passed. I couldn't think of much else this time of year anyway, so this became a ritual of sorts.
The afternoon of that fateful day, October 5th, differed from years past. Something was in the air alright, and it wasn't just the sound of jets soaring through the sky in formation from the nearby naval base. "Strange Days" by The Doors sounded over the radio. "Strange, indeed," I said to myself quietly. What was to come that evening on my 10th anniversary widow's walk on the beach was more strange than I ever could have conceived the word to be.
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