The Phantom Scarf

The Phantom Scarf

I took a walk one day to feel the sun upon my face.  The world I knew had worn on me, and I needed to escape.   Every day seemed to weigh ever heavier upon the other.  I felt as though I was alone in the world.  That I had forgotten who or what I was. 

As I walked, a flash of red caught my vision.  It was an old, worn, sun-bleached scarlet scarf tied to a tree.  It fluttered silently; beckoning to me.  As I approached that ghostly caller, I imagined the person who had tied this cloth to the tree.  Had this been a message to a long lost love? A fading memory forever memorialized in fabric and wood? A hopeful yearning to see their special one again, knowing, perhaps, that they never would?

I reached for the scarf. The silky fabric brushed against my outstretched hand.  Perhaps it was a token of their love, given on some special day.  A simple expression to symbolize something that was so much greater. 

The edges of the scarf were frayed and the fabric looked stained from water in places.  How many late nights of laughter had this simple piece of cloth witnessed?  How many tears?  What had happened to its owner that the scarf would end its journey here, tied to this tree?

My eyes gazed past the scarf to the ground below the tree.   There lay a simple headstone with a brass plaque.   The words were bright, although the plaque had weathered.  As I walked over, my senses were heightened by this almost supernatural experience with a life, a person, long passed.  I could hear the grass shuffling under my feet and could almost feel the millions of eyes from birds and insects in the trees around me.   

I knelt down at the gravestone.  The grass was smooth and the brightest of greens.  A small bouquet of faded flowers rested there and on the plaque, there was a simple story.

“My life was a lonely one,” read the plaque. “I had made many mistakes and I was ready to end my journey.  This person changed that.  In one night and one day, this person showed me, once again, what it meant to be alive.  I never knew that anyone could fall in love with someone so quickly and then lose them just as quickly.   This tree is where we met.  The scarf was one of many gifts given to me on that day.  The most important, I now give to you.  

Live.  Live your life and rejoice in it.  Share that joy with everyone you meet.  

And Love.  Love with all of your heart.  You never know if you will see them again. – Eleanor”

I sat quietly for a time, taking in the words. 

Finally, I stood and it seemed that the weight of the world had lifted from my shoulders.   I silently thanked Eleanor for her gift and glanced over at the scarf one more before continuing my hike.  After a time, I looked over my shoulder.  The tree was almost out of sight, but I could swear there was an old woman there, smiling at me as I walked away.