Reason for Return

On December 14, 2012, Olivia Rose Engel, 6, left Sandy Hook Elementary school and joined the angels in Heaven. Reason for Return April 7th, 2013 Gripping my coat pockets, I am fortifying my hardened shell, or at least attempting to. I cannot help but feel as if my coats are still wet, because these wounds are still fresh. How long is the drying time for: “Mom ready to move on”? A blast of hot air melts me down the automatic doors rip me apart the chemically treated floors burn into my nostrils and the harsh light blinds me back into frailty. I make my way to the line and don’t look behind. I wait eight minutes and twenty two seconds until I am faced with a sign that says: PLEASE HAVE RECEIPTS READY. A woman with silver hair stares at me through thick, pink-rimmed glasses. She empties the contents of my bag and I fight off a memory of Olivia’s jacket which was the same color. Now she’s running over. Tiny legs pushing snow. And I tell myself, No! Because Toys R Us doesn’t sell couches for grieving mothers to collapse on. I hold dear to my pockets, bracing for the three words That fall out of her mouth, and plummet down onto the counter top like, shell casings. I pick them up, and rearrange their letters; forcing them to reject their heavy significance. I harness my scrabble skills but all I manage to come up with is this: Feet run faster, fate refuse, Torn, tears, afternoon. Stone stare onset, often reset, uneaten oreos. Ears. softer. Easter. rarest. soon. “Ahem.” She repeats the question again, except more forceful this time and the customers behind me tap their feet to her words. And I shout in her face: “To pay my father back for the funeral! And because I cannot keep her Christmas presents in my closet anymore! She isn’t here to catch butterflies to keep inside this net, nor will she be able to learn her cursive and Brayden isn’t old enough for Leapster yet, so why should I hold onto every piece of her that I know I’ll never get? You want a reason for return? Well you’ll get mine, when I get hers.” And I politely tell her: “You know, the darndest thing, my mother-in-law just called today - said she got them everything on their list.” I squeeze my pockets tight, and I watch her as she takes Olivia’s gifts.