The Vision

Chapter 1: Janet
“Please, please, let me make it to the other side of the bridge.” Janet gripped the bus strap so hard, her knuckles turned white. The bus was heaving, as usual, on a Monday morning 7:30 commute to downtown Vancouver. Janet had to stand, which she hated, because it made her feel ungrounded somehow and vulnerable. She could feel the panic attack rise up in her and inhaled shallowly, as if she couldn’t get the next breath. “I have to get off this bus,” she thought to herself.
Mercifully, the bus approached the end of the bridge and started down the causeway. She could feel herself relaxing slightly, but the panic was still present. Janet rang the bell and got off at the first stop after the causeway. Her knees almost buckled as she stepped off the last step of the bus. “What is wrong with me?”
She sat down on the first bench she approached and began inhaling deeply and fully, like her therapist had suggested. “Why couldn’t I do that on the bus?” Janet reproached herself.
She had nearly ten blocks to walk to her office in three-inch heels, and she could feel blisters forming already from her new shoes. It was still early—she didn’t need to work until nine—so she had an hour. Janet knew she couldn’t take the bus, but she was still shaky and couldn’t walk just yet. She turned herself around and saw the lagoon. There were some swans and ducks in there and it looked peaceful. Janet got up and walked towards it. She had always loved the water, any body of water—lakes, oceans, rivers, even ponds. Water made her feel at ease. Her anxiety dissipated when she was near it. That was one of the reasons she stayed on the West Coast, so that she would be surrounded by it.
Janet sighed deeply. She had made such progress lately, by getting a new job, joining a yoga class, eating sensibly—not bingeing or purging—and even thinking about online dating. She knew there was no way she could drive across the bridge to work, but she could take the bus. It was just that damn bridge and the fact that she couldn’t get a seat. She’d thought that the earlier she went, the better the chance she would have to get a seat. But she’d had to stand up and let the old lady have a seat. She could just see the faces of everyone on the bus if she said, “Sorry, dear, but you can’t have my seat, because I suffer from panic attacks.” Meanwhile, the old dear is nearly breaking her legs trying to stay in one spot on the bus.
Janet’s feet were killing her. “I need a pair of runners right now.” Her gaze went to the underside of a bush about a foot away. To her amazement, there was a pair of pink and white running shoes. Nothing to shout about, but fairly clean and decent. “Wow,” she said aloud, “I can’t believe it.” She went and picked them up to examine them further. They didn’t smell and there looked to be new insoles inside them. She put her foot in one of them and miraculously it fit. She felt like Dorothy putting on the red shoes for the first time.
“I will only borrow them; I will bring them back,” she promised. For a fleeting moment, Janet thought about what she might catch from these shoes, but it somehow didn’t seem to matter. She decided to have a bit of a walk before heading to the office. There weren’t a lot of people around and she felt invigorated by the cool air. Amazingly, her thoughts were kind and not recriminating as they usually were when she messed up. “I will try again tomorrow,” she promised herself and felt better about the situation already.
There was a clearing off to the right of the path and, for some reason, she entered it. It wasn’t exactly a marked path but it was accessible and fairly clear. She carried on walking about a hundred yards, and there seemed to be an altar of some kind, just ahead. Someone had put some stones on top of it and flowers. Janet went closer and touched the top of it. There was a breeze that came up and she felt something behind her, so she turned around. There was nothing there but when she turned back, she couldn’t believe what her eyes saw. Just above the altar was a white light so dazzling that she had to adjust her focus. There was an outline of woman, fully covered. The face was visible—it was soft, ageless and incredibly beautiful. But this was not the beauty you see in fashion magazines, but rather the beauty of a landscape, a painting, a sculpture or a dance.
“Where did you come from and who are you?” Janet asked. There was a halo of golden light around the woman’s head, and she was holding a crucifix.
“My God, I mean, holy shit . . . sorry, but you’re the Mother Mary . . .” Janet felt the need to kneel before the apparition, but she couldn’t bow her head. She had to look at her, almost drink in her loveliness. Her heart felt like it was growing bigger to hold all the love that was coming into it from this vision.
The vision didn’t speak or move, only smiled. It was so powerful that Janet remained transfixed for what seemed like hours. Then as quickly as it had appeared, the vision faded away. Janet got up off her knees and brushed the dirt from her stockings. Her legs trembled as she stood up and spoke aloud. “What the heck happened just now?”
She turned around, embarrassed by her actions, hoping no one saw her. She ran along the path back to the main walkway. She looked at her watch and it was 8:30—she had half an hour to get to work. She took off the runners, placed them back where they originated and put her own shoes back on. Her high heels felt as comfortable as the runners, and she was amazed at how easy it was to walk in them. Janet didn’t have time to think about what had just occurred and what she had seen, but she was filled with a sense of well-being. She started up the long trek to her office and felt like she was “walking on water.”