(no subject)
A moments’ breeze wound its way through a set of trees, and found its way to a green field littered with marked stones, kicking up fallen leaves and flower petals to swirl and dance on the wind. It tousled one mans hair, and very slightly, he raised his head.
As if it were a sign; some sort of symbol perhaps, or a message sent that he could not read per se, but could otherwise interpret.
There was a certain melancholy in the air which he felt keen, and the lines on his face seemed to deepen as he finished his story, and a silence descended upon him. “I would ask your opinion, but considering the circumstances, I don’t think it will much matter.” The man stood, his weary bones aching as he did so. He ran his fingers through hair which all color had faded from, for even the gray had long since retreated (it was as white as snow) before taking a slow look over his shoulder. He may have felt silly, for there was no audience to hear his words. Yet in some way it eased his heart to speak to the name carved in stone before him. “None of it matters anymore.”
He sighed. “Well my friend, we lasted a long time. But somehow, it wasn’t near long enough.” Pulling a picture out of one pocket, he held it in his hand as it fluttered in the breeze, and pulled a stone out of another pocket. “I want you to have these,” he said. “The picture is the one of all of us from high school.” He chuckled. “We got kicked out of school for wearing those shirts. It was practically legendary. This rock is the stone we used to carve our names into the Grand Canyon our first trip there. I still have it.” He set the photo on the top of the headstone, and place the rock on top of it so it wouldn’t blow away. “I would keep them, but it breaks my heart to see them anymore.”
He stood still before the grave, and the wind picked up again for a moment. He raised his face to the sky, and stood in silence for a long time. Bringing his eyes back down, he laughed to himself as he read the headstone out loud. “’I finished before you in the race of life.’ You always had a sense of humor.” He started to walk away, but turned around as something else occurred to him. “Tell the guys I said hey.” And with that, he was gone.
For my part, I only sat and watched, though he never saw me. I was standing beside him as he lay the picture down, and I had smiled as I saw it. It showed five young men, all in their late teens, sitting in line at what appeared to be a table in a schools’ cafeteria. One was wearing a ridiculous smile while giving the man next to him the middle finger, who looked back at him warningly and appeared to be only half-joking. Another was leaping out of the bench they sat on trying to dive across the table, while flexing his arms. I recognized the old man as one of the remaining two, who were both giving a thumbs-up and smiling broadly. The best part of the picture was that they all wore shirts with one letter printed on each, and when they sat in line it spelled out BEER, with the fifth one wearing an exclamation point.
I smiled to myself, and imagined what the old man could have been like when he was younger. It made me think of my friends, and the good times we’d had. I remember that we’d had a lot them. I kept smiling, and a good feeling fell over me. Life could be so beautiful.
What had made me want to leave this life in such a hurry?
But much of my life had been pain as well, and I had never been strong. I told myself I couldn’t endure it anymore, but now I wish I’d stuck around long enough to heal.
As the man walked away, my eyes shifted from him to the angel that followed him. He certainly did not see it, for even I barely perceived it as a slight rippling of the air; he merely knew it as the light breeze that occasioned upon him. I knew it meant that mercy would be his, but that could mean so many things. Maybe his time was short and the angel was his strength. Or perhaps it was his guardian, and meant to ensure that he stuck around for another decade. Earlier the man had mentioned his living wife; perhaps the angel had something to do with her. “Her health is failing,” he had said, “but she’s more stubborn than even I am; she’s still hangin’ around. I expect a full recovery any day now.” Well, I thought. Maybe the angel was for her. Not that it mattered; soon the man would get either something he very much desired, or something he very much needed, and either way I found that I considered him lucky.
If I could sigh, I would have. Where was my angel? Where was my mercy? I have longed for it for I know not how long, for time is different for me now. But seeing the old man made me realize something I’d not realized before.
I turned back to the headstone that I had come to see, which was next to the old man had visited. It must be fate, I thought, that I come to pay tribute to her when the old man should have been here. Was this my mercy? I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting to see the ripplings of air that would identify an angel. Though there were none, but I was not disappointed for I knew it was a sign. Mercy was not upon me yet, but I knew what I must do to make atonement.
I lighted upon the ground before her stone, and ran my fingers across her name. Though my hand was thinner than the air, it somehow comforted me to do so. “I have been a fool,” I whispered. “It was my rush to see you again that’s been the very thing that has kept me from you. But I know what I must do.”
I stood and turned to move away, but I stopped. Standing amidst a sudden swirl of leaves and flower petals, I let myself feel hope, something I had quite forgotten existed. “I’ll see you soon,” I said, and then I too was gone.
2*8*06
As if it were a sign; some sort of symbol perhaps, or a message sent that he could not read per se, but could otherwise interpret.
There was a certain melancholy in the air which he felt keen, and the lines on his face seemed to deepen as he finished his story, and a silence descended upon him. “I would ask your opinion, but considering the circumstances, I don’t think it will much matter.” The man stood, his weary bones aching as he did so. He ran his fingers through hair which all color had faded from, for even the gray had long since retreated (it was as white as snow) before taking a slow look over his shoulder. He may have felt silly, for there was no audience to hear his words. Yet in some way it eased his heart to speak to the name carved in stone before him. “None of it matters anymore.”
He sighed. “Well my friend, we lasted a long time. But somehow, it wasn’t near long enough.” Pulling a picture out of one pocket, he held it in his hand as it fluttered in the breeze, and pulled a stone out of another pocket. “I want you to have these,” he said. “The picture is the one of all of us from high school.” He chuckled. “We got kicked out of school for wearing those shirts. It was practically legendary. This rock is the stone we used to carve our names into the Grand Canyon our first trip there. I still have it.” He set the photo on the top of the headstone, and place the rock on top of it so it wouldn’t blow away. “I would keep them, but it breaks my heart to see them anymore.”
He stood still before the grave, and the wind picked up again for a moment. He raised his face to the sky, and stood in silence for a long time. Bringing his eyes back down, he laughed to himself as he read the headstone out loud. “’I finished before you in the race of life.’ You always had a sense of humor.” He started to walk away, but turned around as something else occurred to him. “Tell the guys I said hey.” And with that, he was gone.
For my part, I only sat and watched, though he never saw me. I was standing beside him as he lay the picture down, and I had smiled as I saw it. It showed five young men, all in their late teens, sitting in line at what appeared to be a table in a schools’ cafeteria. One was wearing a ridiculous smile while giving the man next to him the middle finger, who looked back at him warningly and appeared to be only half-joking. Another was leaping out of the bench they sat on trying to dive across the table, while flexing his arms. I recognized the old man as one of the remaining two, who were both giving a thumbs-up and smiling broadly. The best part of the picture was that they all wore shirts with one letter printed on each, and when they sat in line it spelled out BEER, with the fifth one wearing an exclamation point.
I smiled to myself, and imagined what the old man could have been like when he was younger. It made me think of my friends, and the good times we’d had. I remember that we’d had a lot them. I kept smiling, and a good feeling fell over me. Life could be so beautiful.
What had made me want to leave this life in such a hurry?
But much of my life had been pain as well, and I had never been strong. I told myself I couldn’t endure it anymore, but now I wish I’d stuck around long enough to heal.
As the man walked away, my eyes shifted from him to the angel that followed him. He certainly did not see it, for even I barely perceived it as a slight rippling of the air; he merely knew it as the light breeze that occasioned upon him. I knew it meant that mercy would be his, but that could mean so many things. Maybe his time was short and the angel was his strength. Or perhaps it was his guardian, and meant to ensure that he stuck around for another decade. Earlier the man had mentioned his living wife; perhaps the angel had something to do with her. “Her health is failing,” he had said, “but she’s more stubborn than even I am; she’s still hangin’ around. I expect a full recovery any day now.” Well, I thought. Maybe the angel was for her. Not that it mattered; soon the man would get either something he very much desired, or something he very much needed, and either way I found that I considered him lucky.
If I could sigh, I would have. Where was my angel? Where was my mercy? I have longed for it for I know not how long, for time is different for me now. But seeing the old man made me realize something I’d not realized before.
I turned back to the headstone that I had come to see, which was next to the old man had visited. It must be fate, I thought, that I come to pay tribute to her when the old man should have been here. Was this my mercy? I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting to see the ripplings of air that would identify an angel. Though there were none, but I was not disappointed for I knew it was a sign. Mercy was not upon me yet, but I knew what I must do to make atonement.
I lighted upon the ground before her stone, and ran my fingers across her name. Though my hand was thinner than the air, it somehow comforted me to do so. “I have been a fool,” I whispered. “It was my rush to see you again that’s been the very thing that has kept me from you. But I know what I must do.”
I stood and turned to move away, but I stopped. Standing amidst a sudden swirl of leaves and flower petals, I let myself feel hope, something I had quite forgotten existed. “I’ll see you soon,” I said, and then I too was gone.
2*8*06