“Why do I feel so at peace?”I inquired.
It was a bright May Day in the glade and we had the garage door opened and the old-school radio set to low volume.
At peace as I sat there with you next to me in the garage of my childhood home, hard seltzer in one hand; yours in my other.
Taking a sip of your cheap beer, you answered with your usual sarcastic smirk.
“ It is a lonely journey being the manure for everyone else’s story. You were the necessary evil that was the fertilizer to so many other journey’s. No one likes the idea of you, yet without you their own story would not exist. There is nothing to forgive. Nothing to grieve and nothing will be lost.”
“It is finally time for you to allow for your own journey to be set anew, and tended to. “
“A vessel of fresh, a story as pure as the air you will breathe”
“I told you, I was calling all available units to bring you back to me, and I finally figured out how to turn the light on”.
“I don’t understand” I responded perplexed.
The bright 3PM day turned to a star filled night sky, and the radio volume turned up, and to static. You disappeared , and the garage light turned on.
“You will” , your voice echoed out”.
Waking up in a pool of sweat at 5:27PM ,
I vowed to never take cheap melatonin again.
Laurel McIntosh 