Monica Nyilas

Our Adventure

Our Adventure, by Monica Nyilas The noise from the living room softens as I make my way up the stairs. I feel the smoothness of the banister as my hand glides on top. I gaze upon the pictures hanging on the walls and am filled with the warmth of those memories. The joy they bring as a tiny smile escapes the corner of my mouth as I make the last step up of the stairs. I come up on the top landing while listening to the hum of the people below. I close my eyes and take a deep breath allowing myself this moment of peace and quiet. It’s not too long before I am meant in front of a door. My head hangs low, my chest is heavy; I am filled with fear and sadness. My hand slowly reaches for the door knob, head still hanging low, eyes closed tight while I release a deep breath and gently open the door. I open my eyes to a normal bedroom. The bed is made, all nicely tucked, the curtains blow whisps across the floor as a gentle breeze from the open window fills the room, and the light shines softly bringing warmth. Peaceful and content as the room should be. I make my way over to the bed and sit careful not to disturb the perfectly made bed. I pause for a moment, taking in a breath of the spring air gifted by the open window. Cautiously I look over to the nightstand and see a picture in a frame. I carefully reach out and grab the picture. I hold it firmly in both hands. I look down at the picture while a single tear falls down my face and onto the frame. Quickly wiped away by my thumb, I pull the picture closer; at this moment the tears begin to fall like rain from a cloud. I hold the picture at my heart, the place where the memory will live forever. I stay in this moment alone and untouched.