The Lilac Tunnel: My Journey with Samantha

I want to go home right now, but Samantha’s been so good to me that I need to say goodbye properly first. I force myself to lie still under the heavy quilt, thinking of how calm she stayed with me at the doctor’s office, trying to summon that same calm for her now.

When dawn finally trickles pale and gray through the window, I’m still staring at the ceiling, struggling to recall Mom’s work number. Samantha breaks the silence, asking what’s on my mind, and I tell her I remember where I was heading, relatives a few hours north. A lie, but one I’ve had all night to prepare.

Samantha sits up, delighted for me, then I watch the realization land on her face: I’ll be leaving soon. I need to catch the morning train north, I tell her, and she nods, understanding, my relatives must be worried sick by now.

Before she leaves to tell Grandmary, I stop her, wanting her to know how much she helped me last night, made me feel welcome, less scared of that doctor’s office. Someday, I tell her, she’s going to find a way to help people, too, just like Dr. Ross and Mom. She blushes, smiling as she leaves the room.

Alone in the quiet room, I think about what I’ll do once home. Call Mom first, ask about the chicken pox, but say something else even more, that I’m proud of her and her work, lucky to be her daughter, and that someday I hope to help people, too.