After the Storm
Five-Hundred
We are alone in the field.
"Did you bring the pocket knife?
Yes. I have the pocket knife. I have everything we need.
I look across the field I'm standing in and breathe in the sweet sent of spring. Wildflowers are blooming, their sweet smell saturating the air. The sun is shining down, bathing everything in a golden light. Its mid-May and we'll graduate in just under two weeks. Its a perfect day, a perfect time to work on our bucket list.
"That's the perfect tree!"
Giggling, you take my hand and pull my arm so that we start running across the field. You release your grip and run ahead of me, spinning in circles. You're so beautiful its surreal. The light hits your golden hair perfectly, and you fall onto the ground, shooting me a crooked grin. You look as though you could be an angel.
When I get to where you're laying in the grass I unfold the blanket and set out the food for our picnic. It truly is a perfect day.
"Come on! Let's do it right now. The food can wait! Please?"
Damn, I can't resist that puppy-dog face you do when you're pouting. Sighing, I rise from the ground and stroll towards the tree with you trailing ever so slightly behind me. Its cliche, yeah, but what couple doesn't dream of having their names carved into a tree? We added it to our bucket list at one of those nostalgic moments we've had all year as seniors, and since we vowed to finish every last thing on the list I have a knife hovering over a bare place on the trunk of the tree.
Your hand closes over mine to make the first cut. I work slowly and diligently, and when I finish I'm left with a heart containing our names and a plus sign. Its everything I dreamed of. My lips form a smile and I turn to find you, to hold you, to love you.
#9. Carve something into a tree together.
You're not here. I step out of the shade of the tree and suddenly the sun is too hot. There's only one sandwich laid out on the blanket, one water bottle. I race to where the tall grass is, and only one set of footprints leads to my spot. My heart's still beating. My breath is coming too shallow, too painfully.
I collapse onto the blanket and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs. The heels of my hands are pressed into my eyes and I try to black out this world. I'm trying to find an alternate reality where I'm not completing our bucket list alone.
I'm looking for the place where it didn't storm, where the roads weren't slick, where you didn't spin out of control, where you didn't leave me. That place doesn't exist. Now I'm breaking down, crying like I did the day you didn't make it to my house.
I am alone in the field.
"Did you bring the pocket knife?
Yes. I have the pocket knife. I have everything we need.
I look across the field I'm standing in and breathe in the sweet sent of spring. Wildflowers are blooming, their sweet smell saturating the air. The sun is shining down, bathing everything in a golden light. Its mid-May and we'll graduate in just under two weeks. Its a perfect day, a perfect time to work on our bucket list.
"That's the perfect tree!"
Giggling, you take my hand and pull my arm so that we start running across the field. You release your grip and run ahead of me, spinning in circles. You're so beautiful its surreal. The light hits your golden hair perfectly, and you fall onto the ground, shooting me a crooked grin. You look as though you could be an angel.
When I get to where you're laying in the grass I unfold the blanket and set out the food for our picnic. It truly is a perfect day.
"Come on! Let's do it right now. The food can wait! Please?"
Damn, I can't resist that puppy-dog face you do when you're pouting. Sighing, I rise from the ground and stroll towards the tree with you trailing ever so slightly behind me. Its cliche, yeah, but what couple doesn't dream of having their names carved into a tree? We added it to our bucket list at one of those nostalgic moments we've had all year as seniors, and since we vowed to finish every last thing on the list I have a knife hovering over a bare place on the trunk of the tree.
Your hand closes over mine to make the first cut. I work slowly and diligently, and when I finish I'm left with a heart containing our names and a plus sign. Its everything I dreamed of. My lips form a smile and I turn to find you, to hold you, to love you.
#9. Carve something into a tree together.
You're not here. I step out of the shade of the tree and suddenly the sun is too hot. There's only one sandwich laid out on the blanket, one water bottle. I race to where the tall grass is, and only one set of footprints leads to my spot. My heart's still beating. My breath is coming too shallow, too painfully.
I collapse onto the blanket and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs. The heels of my hands are pressed into my eyes and I try to black out this world. I'm trying to find an alternate reality where I'm not completing our bucket list alone.
I'm looking for the place where it didn't storm, where the roads weren't slick, where you didn't spin out of control, where you didn't leave me. That place doesn't exist. Now I'm breaking down, crying like I did the day you didn't make it to my house.
I am alone in the field.