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CHAPTER NINE; mars flavored kisses ( ZAFIRA )
MARCH , 2022.
TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS. Could that be true?
In the early moments of march, healing comes in the form of the first peaks of sunlight as winter takes its final breath. It's tucked in the pockets of a thinner jacket, when a thick blazer is no longer needed. It peaks through the blinds of open windows, casts a soft light into the darkness. It's in every step you take, from work to school to home, on the pavement and the traffic lights.
It's never going to get better. The memories of my father will never pass kindly through my mind, never pass like sea-salt and hope, like gentle winds and sticky cherry. It'll never not hurt, not hurt like a stab in the chest in every way it can, like a knife going back and forth through my barely beating heart. It'll never get better.
But it always gets easier. Every morning, it becomes a routine: getting up, thinking of him, trying to last through the day, and going to sleep only to repeat it all again. Before, it was just a drag, like being tugged through mud held by your hair alone. Before, the ache that followed me wouldn't let me breathe. Now, I can stand on both feet and trudge through the mud myself, I can cope with the ache that lingers, sometimes even tie it down for a bit.
So, perhaps time doesn't heal all wounds, but it most certainly makes living with them easier, kinder, more forgiving.
When I turn to face Nick, a myriad of colorful emotions on my face, I can tell that he's already looking at me.
"What?" I mumble, the trace of a smile behind my lips.
"Nothing," he replies, his own smile bright. "You're just really pretty."
My face turns pink and a bashful laugh escapes me. "Shut up, idiot."
"Nah, not a chance." He quips back, his hair flowing into little curls at his nape.
I huff playfully, looking up at the stars.
It's been eons since January, since Nick and I's first date.
I look back on that time with rose-colored lenses, watching my old self act with caution and bundled nerves. I see an older version of me, rough around the edges but full of love to give.
We've been everywhere since January; the park behind his house where the flowers are large and beautiful, the milkshake shop from hundreds of nights ago where the drinks are sugar-sweet and savory, our gas station where the stars are kind and the air is warm, and every place across Orlando.
