My Garden

My heart was pounding as I wished, more than anything, not to be late for that damnable boat ride. Running through the bustling marketplace, treading through the crowded streets, pushing past the workers who unloaded the morning vans filled with goods. The obstacles seemed never ending as I continued to sprint, forcing my legs to go faster with each passing second. I couldn’t be late. I would never forgive myself if I missed that ride, that last moment…

I cringed at the distance still left before me as I leapt over stones and boxes, stomping through the puddles left from the harsh rains that fell the last night. The sounds of the rest of the world faded to my ears, my vision blurred with desperation. Breathing became harder and harder to do, as taking in any air was nearly forgotten by my senses, numbed by the cold morning.

I could see the docks, filled with the masses of city folk, as well as the church bell tower… I stopped in my tracks as the bell sounded ten of the clock; the very departure time stated on the boat’s ticket. I gasped as my eyes trailed toward the ground in shock and devastation. I held out my scarred hand, the very hand that held his; my teacher, friend, beloved.

A pain in my chest flourished throughout my body, and I couldn’t let it go on. I clenched that fist and dashed toward the pier, hoping for some kind of complication with the ships departure. This was not how it could end, it wasn’t right! I cried his name out, shoving past the others like they weren’t even there. Finally, when I got out of the crowd, I paused, hesitant to move, or to look, but I had to.

There he was, looking so refined, but his eyes held more truth. They both held a look of shock in their obsidian eyes, both filled with this sense of disbelief and joy. I must have looked a sight. My uniform was wrinkled, my cap barely hanging onto my head, and my boots stained with mud. I huffed in breaths, trying to stay composed, moving forward on almost shaking legs. I reached out my hands and couldn’t help but lunge at him and hug tightly. Our embrace was only a few short seconds, but it felt like a lifetime had flown by when we had reluctantly let go. From the inside pocket of my over shirt, I pulled out a mini bouquet I had carefully placed to prevent from smashing it against myself. The tiny blue flowers radiated in the sun’s tired light, gleaming brightly with this kind of warmth indescribable by any words.

Our eyes met again, with this sorrowful but understanding look. A twinge of pain wrung at my heart as he straightened up my cap, letting his touch fall and linger briefly against my flushed cheek. He turned, and boarded the now ready ship, clutching the small flowers in weary palms. I watched him go, but knowing him, looking back would be too painful. I didn’t know when we would meet again, if ever, but I would always remember. Those Forget-Me-Nots would last forever, whether their petals wilt or not.