The Best World

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. My heart beamed with joy. I only had a few hours before the sunrise. I knew he would be there in his usual spot where he’d wait and I could see him.

The dead winter trees were now sprouted with new foliage that looked gorgeous against the purple and pink hue to the sky. I reveled in this moment every night. The damp street was now dry and the town didn’t look so gloomy. I walked to the end of the street where the two streets met. Reed Street and Jesse’s Way.

Oh Jesse. I saw him and he ran toward me. He looked exactly the same way he did that day. His dirty blonde hair was brushed back and his denim overalls still had one button on the right hand side unbuttoned and his white shirt still had the chocolate ice cream stain from earlier in the day. His bright blue eyes shined a little brighter as he ran toward me wrapping his little arms around me in a hug so tight I could barely breathe.

“Momma, I missed you,” he said in his little voice. I ran my hand over the top of his hair and picked him up while we still embraced. This was a feeling I would never get sick of. Tears streamed down my face, but they weren’t salty. They tasted like cotton candy, Jesse’s favorite treat/

“I missed you too sweetpea.”

Jesse was playing in the street when he was struck by a reckless driver. He said it was painless. A part of me died that day with him. I stopped eating, I stopped showering. I did nothing but cry and scream. My husband couldn’t bear it after a year and left. I was devastated. I screamed at God asking him why me? Why my son? A little five year old boy with so much life left in him. So much potential. I was screaming into a void. My prayers, everyone else’s prayers wouldn’t bring him back. They couldn’t bring him back. The town dedicated our street to him: Jesse’s Way. I was not grateful. I was disgusted, as no witnesses saw it and no one investigated it. I went down to lay on that street one night at midnight when my neighbors turned all their lights off. I wished for death. That another reckless drive would come along and put me out of my misery. I closed my eyes as I layed on the hard asphalt.

I don’t know how long I was out there, but I was still alive. I opened my eyes and the sky was bright. It was a fine day in the middle of the night. There were clouds in so many different shades of purple. Lavender, lilac, grape, plum and eggplant. The sky behind it was a glowing pink that looked like my cheeks whenever my husband would look at me. I had to rub my eyes for what else I saw. The street looked gorgeously new. Fresh pavement with fresh lines and where the curb worn away by the rain was newly restored. Every house was new and all the landscaping was impeccable. There were gorgeously trimmed hedges and bushes in the shapes of Jesse’s favorite animals that looked at you and made noise even while being stationary. The soft sounds of music came out of nowhere. Maybe I did die. Was this heaven? I looked over and there he was, my little Jesse. This had to be heaven.

He ran to me. “Momma!”

He wasn’t a ghost. I could feel him and wrap my arms around him. I kissed his little forehead and held him for what seemed like forever.

“How is this possible?” I asked out loud.

“Momma, you’ll never guess what happened. I made this world so I could see you.”

“You did this?”

He nodded. “I saw you were sad. I heard you crying and screaming. You missed me so much Momma and I missed you.” He hugged me again. We stood up and walked hand in hand as he pointed to everything in wonder. He knew where everything was and his once untouched bedroom was full of life again. His toys moved on their own and his books projected themselves onto the wall to tell stories. I couldn’t believe this was real.

As it neared 5 AM he began to fade, pixelated almost.

“I need to go now Momma.”

“No, no, no. You don’t have to go baby.” I hugged him as tight as I could.

“You’ll see me again Momma. I promise.” He held his tiny pinky out for me. I looped it with mine and we kissed our fists. Jesse loved to make pinky promises. We left the house and walked back to the end of the street where the two streets met. The beautiful sky started to fade into a normal sunrise and everything else went back the way it was. Jesse kissed my cheek and held my hands.

“Close your eyes Momma.” I did as he instructed and I felt his hands leave mine. I opened my eyes and he was gone. I was just standing there, arms out, holding nothing.

I waited patiently to see if I woke up in my sad lonely bed. I didn’t. That was all real. I went back home and tiredly got dressed for work. As the day dragged on like usual I held onto Jesse’s word he would see me again and sure enough that night as I was getting into bed for the night at midnight the sky turned and things around began to change. I ran outside and down the street and there he was.

“Oh Jesse,” I said, scooping him up in my arms.

“See Momma, I told you I’d be back.” His voice was so comforting.

We played, we laughed, we tickled each other and we sang all his favorite songs as everything came to life all around us. I looked at him with desperation.

“Jesse?”

“Yes Momma?”

“Will there ever be a time I won’t see you again?” I waited anxiously for his response. He put both hands on my cheeks.

“As long as you don’t forget me Momma, I’ll be here to see you every night.”

“Oh baby, I could never forget about you.”

Jesse came to me every midnight and left every morning at 5 AM. The goodbyes got less sad, but the excitement to see each other never diminished. With every “I love you” his smile shone brighter than the small rays of gorgeously yellow sun that would peek out from behind a purple cloud. There will never be a time I would never not show up at the end of the street for him. The only concerning part is if I ever fell ill or succumbed to the ultimate loss of my ability to remember him. I didn’t think about that as I held my little boy, my entire reason for being.

“One of the many comforts of having children is knowing one's youth has not fled but merely been passed down to a new generation. They say when a parent dies, a child feels his own mortality. But when a child dies, it's immortality that a parent loses.” - Jessica Lang as Constance Langdon American Horror Story.