Theresa Lewis

Sometimes in life, weird things happen that you can’t explain, no matter how hard you try. Believe me when I say that I have had more than my fair share of weird experiences.

After my mother passed away, my father came to live with my husband and me. We led a fairly simple life, all in all. If I remember well, our big outing for the week was to go to a large shopping mall on Saturdays. My dad looked forward to these excursions. Most of the time, all we did, was have a nice stick-to-your-ribs breakfast then go right home.

One day, my dad suggested that we bring home some famous Montreal smoked meat sandwiches for supper. We all agreed. I offered to wait at the deli counter while my husband and dad stood in the line to buy lottery tickets. The lottery booth was a free standing kiosk located in the center of the aisle walkway. Both the deli counter and the lottery line were extremely busy that day and the wait was long.

For the longest time, I kept my focus on the boy who was serving customers at the deli counter. He was so painfully slow and frequently took some customers orders who had just arrived while making the rest of us wait longer. At one point, it caused a dispute to break out. I wanted no part of the bru-ha-ha. I was considering abandoning my spot in the line even though I had been waiting over half an hour to be served. I turned around to look towards my husband and dad to see if they wanted me to wait any longer.

As I looked in their direction, I got the shock of my life. Past them on the opposite side of the mall walkway, I saw my mother. At that moment, all sense of reason fled and I rushed over to her as she rushed towards me, both of us with outstretched arms. I pushed my way through the throng of people who were blocking my path to my mother.

I actually came within a mere few feet of crashing into a ceiling to floor mirror that was directly in front of me. Suddenly, reason returned and told me I was looking at myself. I felt like an idiot. My mother had been dead for over eight years at that point.

When I was telling my dad about it after the fact, he said he had seen me running across the mall with a glazed look on my face and wondered what had happened. I never realized how much I looked like my mother when she was alive, until that day.

Dad said that I need glasses. I swore that I didn’t. He said if that was true, then I needed a screw driver to tighten up the loose bolts in my attic. He might be right there.

The End