Post by Gregory W.

Lucy sighed a sad smile and took the letter from her pocket. So many times she had done this the creases were beginning to tear.   And every time she read it, some of the pain and anger, strewn in her heart like the driftwood flotsam of the beach scape around her, would go free. Especially the last part. Broken for loving some and something that could not be. That someone, he wrote, was and is you. My one. Perhaps with this letter some part of me can find its way back to some part of you. For always. The sounds of the sea took her back. Back a decade and more. I thought we would have more time. Time. Not stolen time. Borrowed time perhaps. Never enough time. And yet our moments shared were moments where time seemed to freeze. Like little bits of forever. The late afternoon sun shone through the open windows. Casting shadows of branches and leaves swaying to a gentle summer breeze.  Lucy caught herself remembering with a mingling of delight and sadness. Like laying in the grass and making stories from the clouds flying above. Cloudscoping she called it. They did not talk much about their possible futures. Instead reveling in the moments of being together. Death however was something that they talked about. Not a maudlin or depressive sort of thing. More of a macabre humor. Knowing what lay in store for each of them. I’ll Follow You Into the Dark. And embracing it. Finality presents a certain kind of freedom. Still made sense now. There was only one vision of the future. Bittersweet everytime. The look on his face at that moment. A kind of soft serenity. And a little bit wistful. What do you see? Lucy asked. Rocking chairs. Rocking chairs? Yep. On a porch. Looking out over the open country. The sun is low at the end of the day. The warm haze of summer in the air.  And us. Just the two of us. Old. Holding hands. Your eyes and smile as bright as the day we met. Later, Lucy studied her reflection in the sunroom window as daylight surrendered and the house lights turned on. Do you still see us in our rocking chairs? Do you when you are up among the clouds? She felt his answer in a whisper. Always.