𝒅 𝒓 𝒂 𝒃 𝒃 𝒍 𝒆 𝒔

the willow

I remember back when I just entered high school, I was new, and alone.  I didn’t have any friends, as I had recently moved with my mother for her work.  It was a foreign land, and one I was not trusting of.  I was the lone wolf amidst packs, their eyes cold, and their fangs bared at the new kid.  

I happened to find one person, a boy who seemed far too frail and weak, even though he had a well built body.  ‘He should be in a hospital,” was my first thought, and later I would know that was true.  His name was Zayne, which the spelling was always funny to me.  He was a sweet kid, and deserved a lot more than he was given.

After school we would often sit outside, under a large weeping willow, and watch the leaves sway as he discussed our lives.  He would always talk about his parents, who seemed like nice people as well.  We would often linger there for a while, and I learned a lot about Zayne throughout the years.  He remained my only friend.

I learned he loved to read, and write himself.  He was a poet at heart, and even made a little poem about us at the willow tree.  He wanted to become an english teacher to share his passion with others… He never got to however.

I was told a week before he was hospitalized.  He had lived two years longer than the doctors had predicted… He managed to make it through high school, hanging onto life by a thread.  He could have stayed home, or traveled, but instead he came to school every day.  He told me he did it for me… To keep me company, and happy.

After around a month in the hospital, he passed.  It was a devastating time in my life, and I wished I could go back to before he was dead, and tell him to go and live his dreams.  I didn’t go to college for another year, and when I did, it was hard for me to make any other friends.  I was still stuck on regret.  

I moved on of course, and have friends now to support me.  Sometimes I feel as though he is still looking over me, and keeping me out of trouble… Those thoughts always bring me to tears.

Every year, on the anniversary of his death, I go and place flowers, white carnations, his favorite, and a note onto the grave.  This is my seventh year of doing so.

The air was frigid, and steam rose into the air from my breaths.  I made my way down the padded down paths, standing before the headstone to his grave… This day was always the most painful in my life.  Stepping forward I set the note and flowers onto the grave, leaning them against the headstone.  I assume the caretaker always threw away the cards… But this time something stood out.

On the edge of the grave was a small… well it seemed to be a card.  Taking it in hand, I ran my thumb over the finch that was drawn onto the front… He always had loved the little birds.  Below it, my name was signed.  Now, why would someone leave something for me?  Flipping open the card, I took a look at the contents… Within was a poem.

╭────────────╮

Under the crying willow 
Within the golden meadow
There will be a meeting 
A long awaited greeting

If you shall be the crow
With feathers of shadow
Then I shall be the finch
Even if I am only an inch

╰────────────╯

Below the poem was a single line, written clear as day, “Meet Me at Midnight.”

I didn’t know what the poem meant, nor what the last line was supposed to mean… There was no place to meet, so he really couldn’t do that.  Tucking the note away, I turned on my heels to leave, and wish my friend a good night. 

Once at home, I set the letter on my desk, and every day it was a reminder, as the poem became burned within my mind… Familiar but like I had forgotten it, until I passed the park I now tried to avoid because of the memories.  The willow still stood tall, the leaves waving as they caressed the wind.

The Willow.

The poem was the one he had written so long ago, for the both of us to share, and remember.  How could I have forgotten it? 

Meet me at midnight.

Returning home, I awaited the fall of the moon, grabbing a coat as I raced outside, trying to make it to the tree on time… 

Meet me at midnight.

Within the distance, I could see a figure under the tree, someone sitting there, their legs tucked to their chest, chin between their knees… Just like how he sat.

Meet me at midnight.

Tears now welled within my eyes… This had to be some sick joke, or twisted dream.  “Zayne..?” My voice came out as a weak croak, held back by the sob that threatened to break free. 

The figure turned to smile, their eyes lighting up gold in the moonlight.  “You kept me waiting for a while…” He hummed, his pale lips moving to let out the gravelly voice I had longed to hear for years.

“How..?” I fell to my knees, pulling him into a hug as I dragged him closer, needing to feel him to know this was real… It couldn’t be… “This is all fake…”

“No actually… I have been trying to contact you, but the other angels didn’t like me coming down to see you.  They got tired of trying to keep me within their bounds, and so they made me your Guardian.” He hugged me close, chuckling to himself.

“H-Huh..?” I sniffled, still smaller than him… He really had aged well, and now that he didn’t look so frail… well he could become a model and not a teacher.

“I went to heaven silly, and I am back because I wanted to help keep you safe.”  I felt his arms tighten around me, and soon enough we were laying back in the grass, side by side, watching the leaves say…

I had cried for what Zayne claimed was an hour, but I doubted that.  I wasn’t hydrated enough for that.  Under Zayne I could see the outline of his wings, which he was keeping hidden in case someone happened to be walking along as well.

“Zayne… Why did you come back to just me and not your family?”

“Because you are important to me.”  He replied almost instantly, though there was a nervous edge, as if he had more he wished to say.  There was a silence before I heard him moving.  His face blocked the moon as he leaned over me, my eyebrow raising. 

“Whatcha doing there?”  I didn’t get much further in my questioning, the answer coming as he placed a kiss on my cheek.  I was startled, eyes wide as I couldn’t find the words to respond to such a thing.

“You are important to me… Really.  You kept me alive through school… I fought for you.”

After another minute I finally managed words out.  “You idiot… You should have told me about your illness sooner.”

“I know…”

“No you don’t,” I retorted back, rolling to face him.  “And… Well, I forgive you… I'm just happy to have you back.
“I’m happy too… Thank you.”

We laid there until I fell asleep, though, as my guardian angel, I assumed Zayne took me home, as I had awoken within my bed, the smell of breakfast permeating the air… I think this is going to be some of the best days of my life.