The Door

I never understood the door the, and I hardly understand it now. Mom warned me about it when I woke up. "Don't go there, Ali. I can't follow you through there, so don't go, you understand?" I nodded, and said I understood, but I really didn't.

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I woke up that day, not really remembering what had happened. The room was strange. It wasn't mine, and it was mostly white, with a pink itchy blanket on the bed. I looked out the window and saw trees. A bird flew past the window, singing. I tried to get off the bed, but something pulled me back. I looked down and saw I was wearing paper -paper!- and I was confused. The door opened, and a woman with blue pants and a blue shirt came in.

"Where's my mom?" I asked. The woman smiled. "Right here." My mom followed and rushed to my side. "Oh, my sweet Ali! Oh, sweet Ali!" There were kisses and hugs, and her face was wet because I could feel it, but I couldn't see her face.

"Mom?" She pulled back, and I saw tears. I knew tears. They were what happened when Daddy left. They were what happened the day Gramma Fitzuld ("Fitzgerald, Ali!") slept, and Mom said Gramma Fitzuld was gone, dancing with the angels. Mom said we could wish on tears that 'glistened'. Mommy said 'glistened' meant they were shiny.

"Oh, Ali. We thought we'd lost you." She said. Daddy was home now. I giggled.
"Silly Mommy. How can you lost me? I've been sleeping here the whole time." Mom smiled.

"Did you dream, Ali?" She asked, the wishes gleaming in her eyes.

"Yes, Mommy. I saw a door with a bright, bright light. It was white, Mommy." More wishes came to Mommy's eyes.

"What did you do, Ali?"

"I went to the door, and I wanted to go in. Someone called me, and the door opened. I saw Gramma Fitzuld, Mommy."

"Fitzgerald, Ali." Mommy said gently. She was looking out the window.

"Mommy, where are my clothes?" I asked. Something changed inside Mommy at that point. She looked angry.

"No, Ali. You can't have your clothes. They're... yucky." She said, and she was mad. My 7-year-old mind didn't understand why someone could be so angry.

"What happened after you saw Gramma Fitzuld-Fitzgerald, Ali?" She changed the subject, but I could see how angry she was. Did I do something wrong?

"I walked to the door. But I heard something else. I heard you Mommy. I heard you calling me."

More wishes. Anger gone.

"Me?" Mommy asked. I nodded. "And I heard Daddy, too. You said you didn't want me to go. That I had to come back. So I did."

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