She knew her pain was unremarkable. Of course it was. Of course!
But, on that day, when the sky exploded in a berry-crush that bled slowly into a purpled evening, she thought she saw a shooting star. A star that boring people called a meteor.
She loved the white wicker porch that showcased her mountains. She realized that she was fortunate—fortunate to have a spectacular view. A view!
Ultimately, she hadn’t wanted to retire to the edifice of an alp, but once she had, she discovered that it was beautiful, that it settled her soul, and that she was happy.
Happy! Really…
Evenings were her best time. Time to sit alone and think.
Think.
Discovery was a precipice of sharp edges.
Razor sharp.
She felt the cut.
Sometimes a ghoul conjured itself before her very eyes. It was always the same—her childhood sweetheart, with a ridiculous bleeding heart that meant so little. A whirlwind of hormones, raging. A memory that made her cringe.
But, still…
Aldred was never far from her vision. Her first love.
Weird!
But, still…
Poor Aldred.
Poor…
“Hello,” he said, “how are you?”
It was ridiculous.
But still, as first dates go, it wasn’t all that strange.
He had a cow’s lick fringe that was so soft to the touch.
He had deep brown eyes and a slight lisp.
He was ever so beautiful.
Bright too…
So he called around.
He called, and it made her smile. Secretively, she imagined all nature of skin-tingling, exciting things.
But that was not what it was.
It was tragic, rather!
Tragic. Even now…even when life was parting. Even in her decade of demise.
So sad!
She saw a linear hologram of her family. Her husband, now gone. Her children, so remote.
She envisioned, without warrant, her entire timeline.
She loved her twins, Emily and Edward.
They were always a nudge in her ribs. But, Aldred, oh, dear...
Aldred!
So the car. His father’s Ford.
Pristine car that was a smudge on the tarbelt of misfortune.
He was so proud.
It was newly polished.
A shiny thing.
A school function. A dance.
Bright lights and alcohol.
A sky shot to gold by a shooting star.
Someone said that alcohol and innocence are a bad match.
Of course they are.
There was a cliff, a pinprick of danger in the road.
Aldred admitted before he drove into peril that his father had not given him permission.
But she egged him on...
The sky before her limited vision burst into black.
All traces of burgundy and lilac rubbed right out.
She saw a bright point of light.
Something vivid and real.
A dream of Aldred.
A comet on a trajectory of acceptance.
The worst part. The worst, was how he lingered.
He slept for most of the day. Most days.
She sat with him, of course.
But…
There was no light.
No recognition.
No connection.
Somehow, she stumbled through. Days of laundry, small, but necessary things that made her feel.
She visited. Often.
Then not so much.
Days blurred into nights. Nights changed and evolved. At some point she discovered that she hadn’t been to the hospital in more than a month.
Guilt found her sitting at the side of his bed with a book. She sat near the window.
She read Gillian Flynn. Again, and again.
Nothing.
Eventually, she sat near the bed. His bed, and watched the sky for a sign. A star, a light…a sign!
Then,
she moved.
It wasn’t a planned thing, but it changed everything.
She reclaimed herself.
She found an ice rink.
Skated around and around until a man with a floppy fringe took her hand and made her smile.
But still, it lingered. Always there under her skin.
Always .
Image : cdn.leonardo.ai/users/72b89f62-1c71-4ce1-b28a-c31ceb850384/generations/a6fa001c-634c-4752-abaa-f7a30cc8b0bb/Leonardo_Phoenix_A_sleek_cherryred_Ford_Mustang_its_headlights_0.jpg
