J.T. CONDE

To: Me
From: Mom

I awoke, wrapped in a woolen blanket laying next to a small, cozy campfire. In a daze, I looked up and noticed the stars flanked by nebulas. Stars just as electric as they were close. Celestial. There was a sliver of moon, the last piece of pie in the sky, more than enough to fill me up. Its light illuminated a lake, which was about 20 feet from where I stood, barefoot. Lilly pads were scattered across the water, glowing, floating in the darkness.
I felt…warm inside—but not from the fire. It was a tranquil feeling, one of equanimity. I could hear my heartbeat echoing off the trees around me. Slow and steady. Pulsating. Mighty tall pines, whispering secrets to each other as the breeze whistled through their needles, musically. The crickets served as symphony strings while the frogs added rhythm. Harmonious.
Where was I?
Everything looked faintly familiar. The way a half-forgotten dream is half-remembered. It reminded me of a similar sublime experience I’ve had, but I couldn’t quite peg it. It didn’t matter. Nothing did besides the moment. Proximity was irrelevant. I was somewhere I had dreamed of. Maybe it was just that, I thought. Another dream. After all, I don’t remember how I got here.
I walked along the shore and into the mystic, until I felt sand under my toes. I looked down and saw a set of footprints. Naturally, I decided to follow them. They led me to an opening where the fog parted. I stood in front of a long wooden dock extending out into the lake about 30 feet. At the end of it was a woman with strawberry blonde hair. She was wearing a beautiful white gown, angelic, beaming in the moonlight with her feet in the water.
My heart pounded as it got quiet.
She looked like…she was waiting for me.
Entranced, I walked slowly out to the end of the dock. Oddly enough it never creaked.
As I reached her, she turned to me with the warmest smile.
It was—
“Hello, my son.”
My Mom.
Lost and found. All of those years, wondering while wandering under those very stars.
I hugged her with everything I had, the way she taught me to.
After the embrace, we sat beside one another on the dock’s edge, feet in the water.
Overwhelmed, I went to cry in her arms…but nothing came out.
“There are no more tears to cry, Jason. They’re all in here.” She said as she nodded to the lake in front of us.
“I’ve been waiting here for you since the day I left, and I’ve watched this lake fill up with your tears. I knew that when it was full, you’d meet me here.”
I looked down at the water, in awe. With clarity of vision and soul, I gazed at my true reflection for the very first time. I saw much more than myself.
“I’ve missed you so much, Mom.”

She looked me in the eyes and smiled. “I’ve missed you too, sweetie.”
Purity at last. Love fulfilled.
“Is this a dream? Because I…just don’t want it to end.”
“No, honey, it isn’t a dream this time.”
“Wow. So this is…heaven?”
“Well, this is what we call The Void.”
“The Void?”
“You see, my son, every single person who’s ever stepped foot on earth has lived with some sort of void. Whether it was something lost or never had. The void is a special place, waiting to be found. When we arrive here, we are made whole.”
“So…God…”
“Is that a question or a statement?” She asked laughing a little bit. The same laugh I had heard in my most favorite dreams.
“I guess…it’s a statement.”
“Jason. God exists both infinitely outward and infinitely inward. Living, breathing, in the millions of stars that make up our universe, as well as the millions of atoms that make up our body. God resides deep, deep down in all of us…so close, yet so far beyond the reach of human comprehension.”
“Wow. Perfectly untouchable.”
She put her arm around my shoulders.
“Yet touchable in every way.”
As I gazed out in the distance, I could see a family of swans gracefully gliding across the glass-like water. But they weren’t white, they were neon purple. Then I saw a fish swim by my feet right beneath the surface, a beaming fluorescent rainbow, colors I had never experienced before.
I pinched myself hard on my arm until it hurt.
“Still wondering if you’re dreaming, huh?” She nudged me and pointed to the bruise it left.
“This is…amazing, Mom. I can’t believe it’s all…happening.”
“Well, actually, it’s only happening because you believed it could.”
“I don’t know what to say. This is…a lot to process. I’m just so grateful for this moment. For everything, really.”
“Gratitude is a beautiful thing, isn’t it? It was created uniquely for only human beings to express and accept.”
I breathed deeply. “Thank you so much, Mom, for giving me life…and for sacrificing yours.”
“And I want to thank you, Jason.”
“Thank me? For what?”
“For keeping me alive. In your heart. In your thoughts. You never let my light die, no matter how dark some of the nights were. You took the time to talk to me, not knowing if I was there. You were so brave.”
“Well, I was only brave because you were.”
She didn’t say anything. When I looked over I saw a tear running down her cheek. Rather than wiping it, I let it fall in the lake and watched it ripple all the way until I couldn’t see where the waves stopped.
After a minute or so, she spoke.
“The ripple effect. It’s about making an impact, however big or small. That way, the waves ripple on and echo throughout eternity.”
“That’s amazing. But eternity…is there really such a thing?”
“Of course. Our bodies travel through time. They age, and always die…but they’re more or less our vehicles to get us from world to world. Our spirit and soul are the passengers. They stay perpetually frozen. Endlessly present. Eternal.”
“That’s powerful, Mom.”
I suddenly felt all of my muscles relax. It was so reassuring and comforting to know that we all live on…here.
She continued, and I listened intently.
“It’s also something we can’t possibly comprehend on Earth. The truth about time and space. Otherwise it wouldn’t work.”
“What wouldn’t work?”
“Life on Earth. As you know, it’s so very precious, but there must be a ceiling to our understanding of it. As brilliant as the human brain is, it is designed to run on somewhat of a governor, if you will.”
“I’m not sure I follow…”
“Our mind is a dynamic force, but it’s like gravity. It keeps us grounded while also holding us back. As humans, we’ve gone to space but we always end up back on the ground. Our minds don’t allow us to stray far from what we know on Earth. It’s not until we pass away that our spirits set us free to fly as we become…transcendent, free from limitations.”
“Wow…that’s a great concept.”
“But it’s the truth, Jason. And you know what, a lot of us spend our entire time on Earth trying to be perfect. Seeking to find every answer. Trying to avoid making mistakes. But if people would just understand the limits of our design…that we are imperfect creatures, designed purposefully to be flawed…I think we’d all be better for it.”
“I agree. And that actually reminds me of something I wrote in my journal…”
“Well, let’s hear it!”

—A man tries, knowing that he is imperfect…that is God’s perfection.

“Ahh…that’s very beautiful! Trying is one of the most under appreciated human qualities. It’s so simple, but so profoundly important. How we all try – everyday in some way. We try to be good mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, sisters and brothers. We go to work and try, and contribute to the greater good without even realizing it. A lot of us try in spite of very grim circumstances. You are a born thinker, Jason. Just like me.”
“I’m so proud to be like you, Mom…but thinking can make life very complex.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, because I’ve always wondered why about a lot of things. I grapple with the universe, with God, over tragic happenings and harsh realities. Like war, hate, and innocent people dying. If God is perfect…then why do these things happen?”
“Well…I know this might be hard to understand now, but while life on Earth sometimes seems unfair, nothing happens at random. Dominoes must fall a very specific way in order for life to continue and maintain a balance. There is a plan. But there must be a balance of good and evil, love and hate, darkness and light. Just enough to make us want to stay, but more importantly, enough to make us believe in something greater. Does that make sense?”
“I think so. I just don’t understand why everything and everyone can’t be good.”
“That’s a noble concern, but God makes no mistakes. The alternative is a world where compassion is never tested. A world in which we never wonder or never question our faith. A world…in which we are all…the same.”
I thought long and hard about that. It was sensical, and an explanation I could live with.
“That wouldn’t work, though, would it, Mom? A world where everything and everyone were good. We’d have no purpose if that were the case. No gratitude. No love. And eventually we’d have no reason to…try.”
“Exactly…and there would be no need for art, or music, or literature. The only original expression of human emotion.”
“I never thought of everything being so…perfectly imperfect. It all comes down to trusting the dots, doesn’t it?”
“The dots? Ahhh, yes. The dots. Trust immensely that the dots do connect, just like the stars. Trust in your path. There is only one way from there to here….and it’s not in a straight line. That’d be too short. It’s more of a zig zag path.”
Suddenly an object caught my attention. Floating towards me was a leaf. I bent over and carefully picked it up out of the water. In a silver glow read the words:

If light can be born in darkness, then we have no reason to fear the night.
– Mom

“How did that [happen]…”
She smirked and we both laughed as I held the leaf up to the moonlight. Then I put it in my pocket.
“Mom, I had so many dreams of you. So many visions of something like this. I had conversations with what I thought just might be the wind. But when I really got quiet, when I really listened closely, I could hear you.”
“That makes me so happy. I’m so proud of who you are, Jason.”
“Can I ask you something, Mom?”
“Of course, anything.”
“Why did you have to leave so soon?”

“Well, I left because it was my time.”
“But it was too soon! I lived so much of my life lost without you!” I said, raising my voice and immediately regretting it.
“It’s okay to be angry. But I want you to understand…if I hadn’t left when I did, things would have been much different.”
“Yeah, things would have been much better.”
“Actually, that’s not the case. You see, if I didn’t leave when I did, you wouldn’t have become who you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“You wouldn’t have had the same appreciation for living. That exuberance people have come to love about you. You wouldn’t have had your perspective or your creativity. You wouldn’t have helped all of those kids at the ballpark. You would have grown up…never having grown. Jason, I left because you needed to become you…without me.”
I looked around at everything. The mighty pines stood shimmering, standing tall and sturdy. The stillness and serenity of the lake, those ripples, still traveling. The electric stars lighting up the black sky.
Yeah…the cosmos was speaking to me, loud and clear.
Then, out of nowhere, a golden butterfly swooped down, gracefully landing on my lap; calm and regal.
“Jason, let me show you something. Come with me.”
She took me by the hand and we just took off with the wind. My feet lifted out of the water and we soared, together. Hundreds of golden butterflies flew out of my chest while I was in the air. My Mom just smiled as she flew. I didn’t ever want to land.
When we finally did, we were back by the fire I initially woke up next to. Only this time there was a group of about a dozen boys sitting around it. They looked young. I’d say between 6 and 12 years old. All different, each looking at my Mom as if she was theirs.
“Boys, this is my son, Jason.”
I looked around at the circle of wide-eyed kids.
Then a voice.
“She talks about you all the time! Can you sign my baseball glove?!”
I was humbled. I walked over to the young boy, who handed me an old dusty catchers mitt.
“Of course, my man. What’s your name?”
“Harry.”
“That was my grandpa’s name!” I looked over at my Mom as she was wearing a grin.
I signed my name, along with this message…
– Harry, the dream catcher
I gave him a high five and then went around to everyone, slapping their hands. They had the brightest smiles. Ear to ear.
When things settled down, my Mom got everyone’s attention.
“Everyone get comfortable and take a seat around the fire. We are going to show Jason how it’s done!”
“How what’s done?”
“This is our poetry night. Everyone shares a poem around the fire, and then we discuss it.”
“Wow, this is great!” I can’t wait to hear what you all wrote!”
Then, I nudged my Mom, and spoke in a softer voice so that the boys didn’t hear me.
“So, who are these kids?”
“These…are your brothers. Boys who passed away far too young. You see, Jason, God decided that they needed me more than you did. So I was called upon to be their mother, in The Void.”
I just started crying. Weeping without restraint.
That’s when I woke up, next to a campfire.
Tears fresh on my cheeks, I looked around and realized where I was. I was on one of my many camping trips, all by myself on an island.
It was a dream. It just seemed so real though. I learned more about my purpose in that hour or so than I had in my entire life.
If only it were real.
Then I remember pinching myself. The bruise! I got nervous to check to see if it was actually there. I almost didn’t because I didn’t want to know the truth. But then I lifted up my sleeve and…my arm was bruise-less. No mark. Nothing.
But that didn’t mean that it didn’t happen. After all, I remembered everything. It was a transcendent experience. It was the first conversation I had with my Mom as an adult.
The night was getting late. I was cleaning my bowl on the shore when I looked up at the stars. They seemed so far away compared to what I had witnessed in my dream. I shined a light in the water and the fish were brownish green. If only I could experience those colors again, I thought.
I walked back to the fire and took one last gaze at the flame. I was grateful.
With a bowl of water, I put out the fire and headed to bed. As I crawled into my tent, I heard a crinkling sound coming from my pants pocket. When I reached in, I felt…a leaf.