The Miracle of Rosalie
Hazel had always loved the sound of trains, the rhythmic chugging of engines, and the clacking of steel wheels on tracks. So, on a warm summer afternoon in Brooklyn, Wisconsin, she wandered off from the LaHazel had always loved the sound of trains, the rhythmic chugging of engines, and the clacking of steel wheels on tracks. So, on a warm summer afternoon in Brooklyn, Wisconsin, she wandered off from the Lawrence School for Wayward Girls where she was abandoned as a baby. Hazel found herself walking along the railroad tracks that ran through the small town.
As she walked, Hazel couldn't help but daydream about her future. She pretended for a moment to imagine a life filled with adventure, traveling the world on a train, and living a life that was anything but ordinary.
As she walked, she let her imagination run wild. She envisioned herself standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking a breathtaking vista, or walking hand in hand with her true love through the bustling streets of Paris.
Lost in her dream-like thoughts, Hazel heard a train approaching; she closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact.
But then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the train was gone. Hazel opened her eyes to find herself standing in the middle of an empty field. The train tracks had vanished, and she was surrounded by wildflowers and tall grass.
Confused and disoriented, Hazel looked around for some sign of where she was. It wasn't until she heard a soft whispering voice calling her name that she realized she was no longer alone.
Turning towards the sound, Hazel saw a young girl standing a few yards away. She was unusually tall with cowlick-ridden fire-red hair that dangled on her broad shoulders. The girl had sparkling green eyes that seemed to twinkle in the sunlight.
"Who are you?" Hazel asked, her heart rapidly pounding in her chest.
The young girl smiled and took a step closer. "I'm just someone who wants to help you," she said. "My name is Rosalie, there is no need for you to end your life here.”
“What do you mean…I mean how do you know…What is happening to me?”
“It is not what is happening to you, Hazel. It is my dream to see you.”
“What do you mean by your dream?”
“I have been wanting to see you all my life.”
Hazel laughed. “Oh really, you’re younger than I am.”
“You’ve made a wonderful life for yourself. Please take my hand.”
Hazel took Rosalie’s hand with hesitation. As soon as they touched, Hazel felt an instant connection to Rosalie as if they had known each other for years, even a lifetime. Hazel found herself telling her everything, about her dreams of adventure and love, and how she had almost been hit by the train and how it just disappeared.
Rosalie listened intently, her eyes never leaving Hazel’s. When she was finished, she took her hand and led her to a nearby tree, where they sat down together in the shade.
For the rest of the afternoon, Hazel and Rosalie talked and laughed, sharing their hopes and fears, and dreams. As the sun began to set, Hazel realized that she had found something she had been searching for all along. She had found love for herself.
As they walked back to town together, hand in hand, Hazel knew that her future was going to be everything she had ever dreamed of, and more. With Rosalie by her side, she was ready to face anything that came her way.
As Hazel and Rosalie walked along the railroad tracks, watching the stars twinkle in the night sky, Hazel heard a voice calling her from a distance, “Mom, mom!” Hazel opened her eyes to see her daughter leaning over her bed in hospice care. Hazel’s daughter held her mother's hand and I asked, “Mom, who is Rosalie?”
Hazel whispered, “Rosalie is my mother.”
“Mom, you were abandoned. You never knew your mother.”
The Hospice nurse in the room asked, “Did your mom say Rosalie”?
“Yes.”
The hospice nurse left the room. When she returned, she carried a newspaper article. “I thought the name was familiar. This article is in our library. When I was a child, parents would tell this story so we would stay off the railroad tracks. On April 11, 1936, authorities believe a 13-year-old girl deliberately wandered onto the path of a train just a block from the Lawrence School for Wayward Girls and was killed. A suitcase was found near the body with a handwritten name—Rosalie. Under further investigation, authorities believe that this is the girl that dropped off a newborn at the school for girls.”
“Did you say April 11, 1936?”
“Yes.”
“That is what the school thought my mother's birthday was. The daughter looks down at her mother. Mom, Mom”.
“She’s gone, missy.”
“She came from such a brutal life and yet she was loving, such a selfish place, and yet she was giving, such an unloved world, yet she was filled with love. Our mother was not possible and yet she was.”
wrence School for Wayward Girls where she was abandoned as a baby. Hazel found herself walking along the railroad tracks that ran through the small town.
As she walked, Hazel couldn't help but daydream about her future. She pretended for a moment to imagine a life filled with adventure, traveling the world on a train, and living a life that was anything but ordinary.
As she walked, she let her imagination run wild. She envisioned herself standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking a breathtaking vista, or walking hand in hand with her true love through the bustling streets of Paris.
Lost in her dream-like thoughts, Hazel heard a train approaching; she closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact.
But then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the train was gone. Hazel opened her eyes to find herself standing in the middle of an empty field. The train tracks had vanished, and she was surrounded by wildflowers and tall grass.
Confused and disoriented, Hazel looked around for some sign of where she was. It wasn't until she heard a soft whispering voice calling her name that she realized she was no longer alone.
Turning towards the sound, Hazel saw a young girl standing a few yards away. She was unusually tall with cowlick-ridden fire-red hair that dangled on her broad shoulders. The girl had sparkling green eyes that seemed to twinkle in the sunlight.
"Who are you?" Hazel asked, her heart rapidly pounding in her chest.
The young girl smiled and took a step closer. "I'm just someone who wants to help you," she said. "My name is Rosalie, there is no need for you to end your life here.”
“What do you mean…I mean how do you know…What is happening to me?”
“It is not what is happening to you, Hazel. It is my dream to see you.”
“What do you mean by your dream?”
“I have been wanting to see you all my life.”
Hazel laughed. “Oh really, you’re younger than I am.”
“You’ve made a wonderful life for yourself. Please take my hand.”
Hazel took Rosalie’s hand with hesitation. As soon as they touched, Hazel felt an instant connection to Rosalie as if they had known each other for years, even a lifetime. Hazel found herself telling her everything, about her dreams of adventure and love, and how she had almost been hit by the train and how it just disappeared.
Rosalie listened intently, her eyes never leaving Hazel’s. When she was finished, she took her hand and led her to a nearby tree, where they sat down together in the shade.
For the rest of the afternoon, Hazel and Rosalie talked and laughed, sharing their hopes and fears, and dreams. As the sun began to set, Hazel realized that she had found something she had been searching for all along. She had found love for herself.
As they walked back to town together, hand in hand, Hazel knew that her future was going to be everything she had ever dreamed of, and more. With Rosalie by her side, she was ready to face anything that came her way.
As Hazel and Rosalie walked along the railroad tracks, watching the stars twinkle in the night sky, Hazel heard a voice calling her from a distance, “Mom, mom!” Hazel opened her eyes to see her daughter leaning over her bed in hospice care. Hazel’s daughter held her mother's hand and I asked, “Mom, who is Rosalie?”
Hazel whispered, “Rosalie is my mother.”
“Mom, you were abandoned. You never knew your mother.”
The Hospice nurse in the room asked, “Did your mom say Rosalie”?
“Yes.”
The hospice nurse left the room. When she returned, she carried a newspaper article. “I thought the name was familiar. This article is in our library. When I was a child, parents would tell this story so we would stay off the railroad tracks. On April 11, 1936, authorities believe a 13-year-old girl deliberately wandered onto the path of a train just a block from the Lawrence School for Wayward Girls and was killed. A suitcase was found near the body with a handwritten name—Rosalie. Under further investigation, authorities believe that this is the girl that dropped off a newborn at the school for girls.”
“Did you say April 11, 1936?”
“Yes.”
“That is what the school thought my mother's birthday was. The daughter looks down at her mother. Mom, Mom”.
“She’s gone, missy.”
“She came from such a brutal life and yet she was loving, such a selfish place, and yet she was giving, such an unloved world, yet she was filled with love. Our mother was not possible and yet she was.”
