[ WP ] You swear that you keep seeing the same woman in blue every time you go on family vacation , when you turn 18 , you are introduced to her .

It was a wet day in October, on the eastern shore of Loch Nornin, that I saw her the first time. She trudged along the edge of the lake, stopping every now and then to crouch down on the shore. At the time I thought nothing of it – just a girl in a blue parka, collecting rocks. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Four years passed before we went to Scotland on vacation again, I was fourteen at the time. My dad rented the same lodge as the time before. It was built in the forties in the aftermath of the war and had served as a refuge for disabled veterans before it was turned into a charity-housing in the nineties. And by that, I mean that the money for the rent went directly to a charity for the disabled. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Say what you will about my dad – he was a bit unpolished and something of a drunk ever since my Mom died in leukemia – but he always had a sense of honor. And while there were nicer cottages around the large lake, he always picked this one – the one with the leaking roof and a shower without hot water. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; My brother and I were by the lake, jumping between the jagged rocks that jutted out of the trembling surface when I saw the girl in blue for the second time. I remember my brother nudging my shoulder and asking what was wrong. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ That girl, ” I said. “ I think I saw her when we were here four years ago. ” 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ Who? ” 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ Her! ” I said, pointing. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; My brother nodded, his face was expressionless. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ I guess, I didn ’ t expect to see her here again, that ’ s all, ” I said. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ She ’ s probably a local, ” my brother said, shrugging. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ If she is local, ” I pressed on. “ How come she is here by the lake, collecting rocks every time we ’ re here? I mean, how many rocks do you need? ” 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ Whatever, dude, ” my brother said, hugging himself. “ I ’ m cold, let ’ s go inside. ” 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I hated when he called me ‘ dude. ’ You don ’ t call your fourteen-year-old sister ‘ dude, ’ that just doesn ’ t make any sense. I don ’ t remember if I ever told him that I didn ’ t like it. All I know is that I was clenching my fists in my pockets as we went back to the lodge. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Another four years passed, and with them, my dad and brother. My dad ’ s liver couldn ’ t take any more abuse, and my brother was on that train that got blown up by those bombers. It ’ s strange – you don ’ t really think the tragedies and violence in the world are real until they affect you personally – at least that ’ s how I felt until I was suddenly alone. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Times were hard economically as well – my dreams of becoming a writer weren ’ t exactly bearing fruit. I worked odd jobs and occasionally had stories published in local papers and magazines – the pay of which wasn ’ t anywhere near what I needed to write full-time. It wasn ’ t working out the way I had planned, but I decided to give it one final go. One finished novel before giving up for good on writing – that was my plan. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I sold my apartment in London and took the train up to Scotland. I rented the same lodge that my dad always did, by Loch Nornin – sentimentality, I guess. Three months – that was the time limit I set for myself. It was October again when I arrived at the lake. The citrus fruit colors of the forest were mirrored in the gray water, and a mountain range loomed in the hazy distance. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; My eyes found their way to the shore where the girl in a blue parka was slowly strolling along, every now and then bending down to pick up a rock. What was she doing with those rocks? Despite everything that had happened in my life since I last saw her – I still couldn ’ t wrap my head around it, and felt a surging need to solve the mystery. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; That night, when I sat down in the small kitchen of the lodge to write, with the incessant dripping from the leak in the background, my mind wandered to the girl in the blue parka again. I looked out the window over the dark expanse of the lake. A tiny light from a lantern bobbed along the shoreline – sometimes stopping and lowering itself. The first page of my novel was still blank, but I needed to know. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I put on some warm clothes, grabbed a lantern, and hurried out in the trickling rain. Whistling winds carried across the lake, pushed and snatched at me. I felt the icy rain roll down my face as I approached the lantern. Waves splashed against the rocks and I had to be careful not to slip and hurt myself. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ Hey! Excuse me, ” I cried, to drown out the noise of the waves and the patter of the rain. “ What are you doing out here? ” 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I was close enough now to see the blue outline of her parka in the light of the lantern. I caught her face with the beam of my own lantern. She had sad brown eyes and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. I guess she was about my age. She lifted a hand to her face as a shield for the brightness. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ I ’ m just walking along the shore, ” she answered, her voice barely audible over the wind. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ Why are you here collecting rocks? ” I burst out. “ Why? ” 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ Is it your rocks? ” she asked. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ No, but– ” 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ Then you won ’ t mind if I take some? ” she cut me off, clearly upset about my lack of courtesy. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ Look, I ’ m sorry, ” I said. “ But I ’ ve seen you here since I was ten. I just need to know what you ’ re doing with those rocks! ” 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I sounded crazy – stalker-like almost – and I could see in her face that she wasn ’ t pleased with what she heard. She gave me a pitying look and then turned away and continued her journey along the shore. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ Please wait! ” I said, my voice cracking with pent up despair and grief. “ Please, I just need to know. ” 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; She was already quite a bit away. I sank to my knees, my hands burrowing into the cold wet pebbles. My lips formed the word ‘ why? ’ over and over but no sound came out. The tears that rolled down my cheeks were burning hot. 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; “ Why? ” I said, my fingers finding the smooth surface of a rock. “ I don ’ t understand. ” 
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; I fished it up and opened my pocket. The blackness of the rock was striking against my blue parka. 
 
 ****** 
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