My Red Head

There's a woman.

About death, grieving, and moving on.

        There's a woman, who lives on the front porch. Every night I can feel her sitting out there, on the swing, staring into the distance. She watches the grass sway as the wind blows, watches the dog chase after that old tennis ball, she even watches as the leaves change colors, fall off the trees, and then grow back as the new seasons begins. Even though she lives on the front porch, there's still times I can see her in the house. When I'm brushing my hair and see a few of her old hair bands hanging on the rack by the sink, that sometimes even still have peices of her bright red hair on them, when I'm laying in bed and I see her side of the bed with her nightstand, I could never convince myself to ever move anything on it, when I look in the diner room and see that vase that she had gotten, she always use to put every single bouquet of flowers she got me inside of it. I couldn't quite tell you why, but ever since she's....left, I can't bring myself to do anything, to any of her stuff. I couldn't think while looking at it, I couldn't touch it, I couldn't even let out a breath while I was around it. What was I supposed to do? I just couldn't. It's such a strange feeling, when someone who was your everything is suddenly just.....gone. It's especially weird when there somehow "gone" but all there stuff is still right where they left it. I mean if all her stuff is right here then she has to come back sometime.... Right?? I mean she has too she just..has too. And then I remember, she has, she just, stays on the porch. Everyday and every night, she's sitting out there, on the swing, staring into the distance. She continues to watch the grass sway as the wind blows, continues to watch the dog chase after that old tennis ball, that she got him, she even still watches as the leaves change colors, as they fall off the trees, and then, at they grow back as the new seasons begins. She is the woman on the porch, she is Natasha Romanoff, and she is and always will be the love of my life. There is always gonna be days where I just wish she could be there, there's always gonna be days where I miss our conversations, and there's always gonna be those anniversarys or just certain days that will demolish me because I simply want her. But that's part of life, part of grieving. The world stops for no man, woman, or anyone in-between. My wonderful woman gave up her life to save the entire half of the human population that thanos had already snapped away. That's the type of person that she was. And sure, in the right scenario, in a whole 'nother universe, she wouldn't of had to of sacrificed herself because it wouldn't of happened in the first place. But we aren't in that universe. But yet again, as I hear that creak on the porch, from that old damn swing, I know, that's her, that's my love.