She didn't look anything like I expected. I mean, I really didn't know what to expect but she was...beautiful. How many people do you know that can get away with looking absolutely fabulous with alabaster skin and black hair while wearing nothing but black? Most people would look absolutely washed out and sick but she...she positively glowed.
She said that she had been on vacation.
I found her sitting on a bench in the park, near Ernie the hot dog vendor. She had one of Ernie's special Chicago dogs and was relishing it (no pun intended) as if she had never seen a hot dog before. Perhaps she hadn't. I guess I'll never know.
The thing I remember most about her were the flowers in her hair. Pansies. They were a riot of color set against her ebony hair. I thought that she had simply braided them in but as the day went on, they never faded or wilted. They remained as fresh as ever.
She decided that she wanted to hang out with me. There was something about me that she liked, or so she said. We walked around the park for most of the day, seeing the sights and shooting the breeze. I asked her to tell me her name.
"Gaia."
I didn't question it. After all, there are legions of Pagans walking around out there who chose the name of the Earth Mother for their own. How little did I know.
We had come full circle just as the sun was going down. Ernie had just finished up closing up shop and began wheeling his cart toward home. He wished us a good night as he disappeared around the corner. Gaia sat down in the spot where I had first seen her and began to cry.
She also began to tell me a story. A story about how the world began and how the world had survived throughout the millennia. A story about how the world watched silently over her charges and sometimes felt lonely and neglected. A story about how a little bit of the world could form a temporary body and walk among her charges -- the trees, the plants, the animals...the humans.
She told the story of how the humans were her greatest joy -- and how they caused the greatest pain. Still, she loved them. She walks among them occasionally, just to have the experience of what it is to be human. She told of how of all her walks among the humans, only one had offered her what I had -- simple friendship.
I thought that she was nice enough but seemed to have a few screws loose. Obviously, I didn't voice these thoughts.
She finished her story by telling me that she had to go. Her vacation had come to an end. By now it was pretty dark and I offered to walk her home. The park was no place to be alone after dark.
"Thank you but it's not necessary. You see, I am home."
Those thoughts about loose screws came back unbidden.
She walked behind the bench she had been sitting on and thanked me for the wonderful day. Leaning across the bench, she kissed me on the cheek -- 'partial payment', she called it. "There is really no way to thank you for the gift you've given me," she said as she sunk to the ground. "I really had no idea what a gift friendship could be. I will never forget you."
I'm still not entirely sure what happened next. She sunk to ground, murmuring something that sounded for all the world like, 'No....I'm not ready...' Before my very eyes, her body seemed to sink into the ground and the flowers that were in her hair spread to cover the area where she rested. It all happened in the space of seconds.
To this day, whenever I am in the park and near the spot where Ernie used to sell his special Chicago dogs, I think that I can still hear her calling to me. She still thanks me -- simply for being her friend.