“If someone ever gave me flowers, why would I want red roses? I love roses, but red ones are such a cliché. Everyone gives red roses. No, if anyone ever gave me flowers, I would want a colorful bouquet. It would show that they put thought into it. Pink, yellow, white, purple, maybe a red or two thrown in for variety, and orange, lots of orange roses. They’re my favorite, the most beautiful.” The stop sign shimmers in the evening glow of the setting sun. The lines painted on the road stand out bright atop the black as night asphalt. I walk towards the site. My pulse quickens while my breath comes short and ragged as images flood my mind. I stand off to the side and my eyes wander around. It looks so deceivingly peaceful. The grass on the side of the road is green and lush, covered by the fallen foliage of orange, yellow, and red. A noise to my right turns my attention. A doe walks carefully through the trees. She doesn’t notice me until all of my focus is on her. She returns my stare for a moment before running off in the opposite direction.
I clutch the flowers tighter as the autumn breeze ruffles my blonde hair and the petals of the roses, all of varying pigments. He would like them. He thought red roses were a cliché. God, how I miss you. The year went by so fast. Where did the time go? Where did you go? How did this happen? I look out, my eyes roaming over everything. I don’t know what I expected, but this isn’t it. Where’s the broken glass? The smell of the rubber? The sirens? The flashing lights? The blood? Your blood…where is…God damn it. I told myself I wouldn’t do this. I don’t know why I’m surprised not to see these things and hear these sounds. I knew there wouldn’t still be any evidence of that day. I guess it’s just hard seeing this place without them, as if nothing ever happened. I’m lost in the spot where I held him. I can still see him, feel him in my arms. I can feel the strength in his body go limp. The air smells of engine fumes and fresh rainfall. It smells of blood. My own physical pain melts away. My brain can only focus on one thing— Joey and the pain in my chest, fearing the worst. I held him tight, clutching him, begging him to wake, to open his eyes or even move, anything to let me know he was alive. At the time, I couldn’t tell if he was breathing as I watched him bleed. I was helpless, and it killed me. When help finally came, paramedics tried to lead me away from him, to examine me while he was prepared for the long ride to the hospital. I wouldn’t let them touch me. Until I knew he was in good hands, I stood by his side. “I’m sorry I ever took you out that day, convinced you to be with me on my favorite holiday, despite your other plans. It was all my fault. I knew you only wanted to be with me and I with you.” It’s been a year since he was taken away from me. Three hundred sixty-five long days. I still see him everywhere. I’ll never forget him; his milky cappuccino eyes with the thick black lashes framing them like a work of art; his sparkling smile that filled me with warmth whenever he flashed it my way. These will haunt me most. The only noise comes from the chirping birds that have not left for warmer weather yet, and the rustling of the few leaves remaining on the trees. I set the flowers I brought him next to the telephone pole before making my way back to my car. I’ve paid my tribute to him and the fateful place where I lost him. Hope and these memories are all I have left of you. I have to hold on to that hope. If it really was meant to be, somehow we’ll find our way back to one another. Driving away, I smile in the rearview mirror as the sunlight glistens through half-barren tree branches. Comments are closed.
|
Editorial StaffEditor in Chief Categories
All
|