The Woman in the White Dress

I visited my father frequently, after losing him to cancer when I was only thirty. He was a mentor, my friend, and someone that guided me through the hard times when I could not find my way. I found my way out to the cemetery, a small, old cemetery fifteen miles outside of town. I knew why he liked it, why he bought a plot at that particular place. The peace and quiet being outside the city could calm even the most restless of souls. There was a view in the summertime along the back of the old cemetery. A valley that stretched for half a mile, giving way to a line of trees to watch the dip in the evenings as it dropped below the tree line.

I'd been there once a week since he passed in early May. The very first thing that we discussed was what he'd missed. I then dug into what brought me there. Work was driving me crazy. I found myself on the edge of my sanity, sleepless, stressed, and at times begging for the sweet release from the world that death would provide. Somehow, I could hear his reassuring voice. His voice was nothing special, not deep like the Alstate guy, not calming like Morgan Freemans, but I could hear him in my head telling me that it would be alright. He reminded me, you've done this long enough, you can handle it.

By mid-summer, this was my weekly routine. Then on what's heralded as the longest day of the year, the summer solstice, I happened to be there. I checked on his headstone, clearing some blown grass from the caretakers mowing. Beside his gravestone, I pushed a flag into the ground, for the Fourth of July celebration. I felt a tear run down my cheek, imagining the first Fourth of July without my dad being there to celebrate his birthday and then going to see fireworks. Our annual family tradition was changed forever, the person we celebrated having passed into the afterlife.

As I sat there, I felt a strange sensation. It was both familiar and unlike anything I had experienced before. I felt like I was not alone.

Looking around the old country cemetery, I felt like someone else was there. I stood up and checked for the caretaker. His old pickup truck was gone from its' usual place by the shed. There were no other cars around. Then, as I scanned the area, I saw her.

A woman stood at the entrance to the mausoleum, leaning against the stone pillar on the north side. She stood there in a white, cotton dress, her medium blonde hair blowing in the breeze. I didn't know what she was doing there. I had no idea how she had found herself in the middle of the cemetery. All I knew for sure was that I was completely and utterly intoxicated by her beauty.

She had yet to notice my presence so I moved around behind my Explorer, trying not to be too obvious. I watched her walk from the mausoleum to the north end of the cemetery as carefree as anyone could be. She seemed to be enjoying the walk, her light spring dress blowing in the breeze as she nearly danced in the sunlight. I felt my feet starting to move as I paralleled her movements. Watching her playfully twirl around, the hem of her dress rising as it spun around her, I thought she would eventually notice me. I hoped not to startle the playful nymph as she journeyed around, barefoot in the grass.

This journey lead all the way to the end of the cemetery, into the field of sunflowers. I never noticed the field before. It truly was like a scene from a movie or one of those cheesy Nicholas Spark books. As she slowly mingled with the sunflowers, the sun starting to drop in the western sky, I could see her soft features more clearly. She was incredible, so beautiful, so in her own little world that I knew my fellow visitor to the cemetery was in a peaceful, content place that I hoped to find myself someday. I had never met her and yet I could see this free spirit that radiated from her, making the world a brighter place.

To my surprise, as she made her way to the middle of the flowered field, I noticed as she slid the soft cotton dress down her shoulders. Her dress fell to the ground and I almost instinctively turned my head. I know I shouldn't have looked. It felt intrusive and invasive, yet I was drawn to this beautiful person in front of me. I looked at her impressive shape, her strong shoulders, her toned backside curving down to her slim waist, her firm and perfect rear. I had never seen such a brazen display yet this somehow did not seem wrong or tawdry. The sun shone off of her skin. She almost absorbed it as it warmed her flesh.

When she turned and began walking toward the valley, toward the fence that separated the cemetery from the wild timberland, her smile lit up the dimming sky as the light of the setting sun gleamed off her. I must have gotten too close because she turned toward my position.

She looked me in the eye, a wry grin on her face. I was frozen. This woman stood there, open, free, and exuding inner happiness that I never knew could exist. I stood there, motionless and in a trance. Who she was I did not know. All I knew, was that for the first time that year, I felt no pain, no sorrow, and no anger.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt a tap on my shoulder. I shrieked as I turned to face the caretaker of the cemetery.

"I'm sorry sir," said the old man in the flannel shirt. "We don't allow anyone to visit after dark."

I didn't know what to say. I looked over my shoulder, she was right there. Unless he was blind he had to see her. "I'm sorry, I was watching the woman in the field."

What woman, I heard him say.

"The one in the middle of the sunflower field," I told him as I turned, pointing to an empty field. "What the hell?"

"Blonde in a white dress?"

He had seen her. "Yes, that's the one. Who is she. She's absolutely wonderful."

"Son, let me tell you something. I inherited this cemetery from my grandfather. He told me a story of a wood nymph that comes about, lifting the spirits of men with her frolicking."

"So, who is she then?"

"Nobody knows. Yet, the story of the woman in the white dress has been told around these parts for nearly two hundred years."