I nod, trying to steady my breathing.
“Are you ready to start?”
“Already?” I say in surprise. I assumed she’d ask me a bunch of questions first, break the ice or something.
“Yes. Don’t worry. We’ll take it slow.” She gestures to a recliner. “Have a seat.”
I sink down, running my hands over the textured upholstery.
“Good. Now, close your eyes, Ryan. Let’s start with some relaxation.”
I follow Dr.Wilmer’s orders, focusing on the sound of her voice as she guides me through a visualization.
“Picture yourself on a quiet path,” she says. “There are trees surrounding you, and the sun is filtering through the branches. Feel the warmth, the peace.”
I do as instructed, trying to give myself over the imagery, allowing myself to drift away from the tension in my chest. Her voice soon becomes a soft rhythm, each word pulling me a little deeper. I don’t know how much time passes, but it feels like it’s moving slower now. Like I’m experiencing it in a dream.
“Now, I want you to imagine a door. It’s a door that holds the memories you’re searching for. Behind it, there may be things you’re afraid to see, but remember—you’re safe here. You’re in control.”
I feel my hands clenching and force myself to uncurl my fingers. I keep breathing, imagining that door in front of me. It’s old and heavy, like it’s been locked for years.
“When you’re ready, Ryan, open the door. Tell me what you see.”
I exhale a shaky breath, and in my mind, I reach for the doorhandle. It’s cool to the touch, resistant at first. It doesn’t want to give in. But then, with a push, it creaks open.
Behind it, flashes of my father’s face appear, flickering like a film reel, fast and disjointed. My pulse quickens, but Dr.Wilmer’s voice holds me steady.
“What do you see?”
“There’s…I see a forest. We’re walking through it.”
“Who’swe, Ryan?”
“My dad. Me and my dad. We’re walking.” My fingers dig into the arms of the recliner.
“You’re doing great, Ryan,” she murmurs. “Take it slow. Let yourself see whatever comes.”
I try. I try hard to see. But there’s nothing. Just the trees and the leaves and the sunshine. “There’s nothing here,” I say in frustration. “It’s just the forest. The trail.”
“That’s all right. Keep breathing with me. Deep inhale, one, two…long exhale, three, four…”
I breathe with her. Inhale. Exhale. One and two and three and four and—
“We have to be fast, sweet pea. Before your daddy gets home from town.”
A gasp escapes.
“What is it, Ryan? What do you see?”
“My…mom.” Emotion fills my throat, making it hard to breathe.
I see her. Mom. Her cinnamon hair in a ponytail. Her eyes sparkling.
“She’s happy. We’re going to surprise him,” I mumble.
“Surprise who?”
“My dad. We’re going to his studio in the woods because Mom is looking for the portrait. She’s going to frame it for his birthday,” I say absently. “It’s going to be my present to him.”
