I wandered in the night on her street. Like a ghost, haunting the place we grew up. Her house was dark save for a little light from her sister's old room. She was gone, the family had all moved after it happened. I envisioned a future that never was. A future I always thought about when we'd lie together in the autumn, under the dogwood I carved our names into. What we really want we rarely get, I thought. Maybe it's our hearts that keep us from the pain that our heads seek.
We'd be married by this time, maybe even have a kid. She'd be 20 and I'd be 22, ekeing out a life in the madness of it all. Then it would happen, she'd get sick. When she was diagnosed, we'd have sat together, cried, then pulled it together and figured out a plan. 1) Find a second opinion, 2) find a specialist and 3) settle on the best treatment. It would have been a nightmare for the both of us, but I like to think it would have been easier on her to know I was close. But, maybe not at all.
The moon was low, large and looming over the houses on the block. It was time for me to go. As I drove away, I looked in the rearview in time to catch her sister's old bedroom light flick off. Some kind of bad metaphor, I thought.
(Haven't written in a while so I'm a little bit rusty.)
Last edited by whunter; 10-04-2016 at 06:54 AM..