September 17, 1985 

It was the early hours of morning. The sun peeked out among the branches, barely visible. The multitude of colors—red, orange, yellow, and brown, added a breathtaking background to the picturesque scene. The dabs of intensities were randomly distributed. A maple frond nestled atop a rock while a red oak was tucked under a fallen twig, loosely tied to the ground. At the foot of a lamp post was a neatly arranged pile of leaves. A rake was precariously placed against the lamp’s column. With one strong gust of wind, it would be nudged away from its resting state before teetering to the ground. However, the pile of leaves would muffle the sound of its clash against asphalt. In return, the once perfect little structure would be sacrificed into a mess of leaves as they sprang away from the source of impact. That flawless setting would turn into something plain and ordinary—something with many blemishes. 

To the side, on the far left of the picture, stood a picnic table and bench. It’s wooden material was roughened and etched with markings. Across its surface, a messy star was carved into the wood. The lines were wobbly, jutting out in awkward angles. Something done by a child.

Off to the distance, the lone wail of a baby could be heard. His cry rang out into the air, before seeping away. Seconds later, there was a soft crunch of footsteps against leaves. Soon, the silhouette of a woman appeared, a lone figure amidst the landscape. In her arms, she carried a basket painted the color of sand. With each step she made, the basket swung lightly from side to side, dancing drunkenly to the whisper of the wind.

She gently placed the basket and its contents on the table. Her eyes watered as she took one last, sorrowful glance at it. Closing her eyes and swallowing the approaching tears, she whirled around and walked away. The long strands of her hair drifted in the wind. Before she vanished into the fog, the top of a baby’s head poked out among the folds of the blanket. Its pink face peered up at the blurred sky, focusing on a few streaks of light shining through the clouds.

The baby tilted its head to take in the fleeting sight of his mother. Her image was translucent, very much like a ghost. With one blink, she was gone.