I'm bored so I wrote something

whatever.

When it rained last Saturday, I thought nothing of it. Typical early spring weather. The elegant droplets, fleeting in their season, and infinite. The beauty of the thing is in the sound. That quiet reluctant simple form.

William died last October. Broken by disease and time, we sat for one final time on the cold sand of Windy Beach as we watched the sun sleep. Some sweet portrait of two lovers, false in the perception, and a promise unfulfilled. I remember the clouds made the sky low, and it got dark early. A fair sized black dog leaping in the wind, as if he’s never heard the words cancer, or aids, or global warming.

We all envy the dead – for their contributions and their sense enough to get out while they still could. They were smarter not to have lived to see such days. The agony of the future of space ships, cargo and business. The Earth cruel, the people worse.

William died last October, and the partings and quiet longings of young men have gone unnoticed as the sadness is still too near. It’s not that he’s dead, it’s that he’s gone. Like a young love, soft and malleable, now a wall. You never move on. But if you don’t move, you become a statue in a rainy Roman courtyard.

When I woke up last Saturday, the house was empty. The girls and gone out, and Marybeth flew home to Minneapolis for the weekend. I didn’t put on my contacts, and I stayed in my pajamas as I stared out the glass slider to the memory of a Japanese morning. The rain fell delicately, unintentionally. Just enough to be noticed. I’m healthy and have no allergies. But looking out that Saturday morning, made my body hurt. Why is it that such sights fill us with a sense of something lost? We need the darkness, and shadows. Yet we’re afraid of it.

I don’t know what happened to him. Where he went, where his soul flew. Whether he capitulated to emptiness and the unconscious black, or if he’s resting with a God and perfect, infinite eternity. I don’t know why I opened the glass slider. I don’t know why I walked, no shoes and socks, into the backyard. My skin tightened with the cold, my breath visible. I don’t know why I stood there, or for how long. I don’t know why I could see myself standing in the house, through the glass slider looking back. I don’t know why I disappeared.

-cjfer-