A Blessing or a Curse

When the sun goes down we know the earth is still moving, no one says it, we know. When the sea has moved meters back we know the high tide has been and gone. When the page corner of library books have been folded we know hands held and eyes have read the novel, absorbed the story before us. When hearts have broken we know first they must have felt a love so real and raw that allowed it to become it’s now fragmented state. When people cry we know, prior, tears to tell a story had filled eyes.

As she stood picking the flowers in her garden surrounded by the brightest of tulips, the scent of the fuchsia, with the stem of a rose between her fingers, she knew. The thing that no one said, no one acted upon, would still dance around unspoken, play a presence in her somewhat absent mind. A future so possible, happy, but she knew now that she did not long for, that once she would have given her last penny for, now just a neutral thought. She dropped the rose.

He was there by the yard, fixing the boat in the blistering light and through the rays of the sun the sea, so bright and blue brought no other thought than her eyes. The sea hit the shores and the birds sang their songs, pretty, though not a comparison to the melodies she hummed, the poetic words that twirled off her tongue like a dance. He gave the thought little of the time of day, as how much he longed would never make the impossible reality. Instead of give his heart the ache and grief of a life lost he would open it to the possibility of a new happiness like she has found, though now he still didn’t want the happiness, that is if the happiness wasn’t her.

She sat on the windowsill, looking to stars in the sky so far from it but still closer than herself to the god she believed was up there. Her contentment in that moment, with the sixpence in her white dress shoe and the veil that by tomorrow would be delicately fixed in her curly hair sat beside her, could not be dampened, though pondered upon. She knew tomorrow her father’s strong arm would guide her to her new life, where she’d be met by the man at the altar with the face that she’d think of until her dying breath. Maybe not the face she’d imagined years ago but the one she couldn’t live without, the one that halts the trembling of her worried hands. Regrets, nerves were no such thing in her mind and nor would they ever be, though that does not mean she didn’t give room for the thought of the life that would remain un-lived, waiting there. She picked a single sheet of paper and pencil and wrote by the ever present moon light:

We’ve grown up and that’s the thing,

You’ll see me get my wedding ring,

I’ll see your family, kids grow up,

All by dandelions luck.

Forbidden, yes, it was always there,

You see my eyes, I feel your stare

You’ll change the clothes that you will wear,

But god forbid I’ll cut my hair

The chance was there though it was fleeting,

But the closeness I still pray we’re keeping,

The words weren’t said though don’t we know,

As well as trees and daisies grow.

It stays unsaid I know it’s true,

I’ll never lose my love for you.

If it’s for better or for worse,

Be it a blessing or a curse.

She folded the paper, knowing what is felt by the heart is just as real as what was witnessed by the naked eye and is felt just as deeply, that the words that hold the most impact are sometimes the ones left unsaid, and happenings, memories, the unreal ones are sometimes the most real. She opened the window and released the paper into the night as the summer’s breeze carried it towards the sea. Not sad nor bitter she smiled, shut the window. It clicked shut. She went to bed surround by silver jewelry and handpicked flowers knowing tomorrow began the life she wished for with the man she could proudly say she loved more than anything, the man that would not only be a chapter of it but the rest of her story. She no longer wanted the excitement of lust that a red rose meant to her. Instead now she took comfort surrounded by orchids, with unwavering dependability and love.

Mel ECW