Finding Him

Finding Him:

So he’s gone. Away. Lost. To her at least. They say that you can “visit” them. How can you visit someone when they’re gone? “Here is how,” they explain. “you bring them a flower, maybe sit down for a chat.” But chatting involves two correspondents. And “chatting.” Thats the other problem- they didn’t “chat.” They talked, they laughed, they drove for hours on end just to be together. They nearly never just sat together. They didn’t do flowers, they got cotton candy at carnivals and ordered bad Chinese food on Thursday nights. They never missed a Thursday before… They went to movie theaters and drive ins, not well documented landfills where what once was lies. They were alone when they were together, and the days’ frustrations seemed to dissipate. Not once did they ever pretend to enjoy boring museums then dine fancily at an over-priced tourist-trap. Their idea of fancy was a soft, white blanket spread across sand, grass, or gravel, matted with stains. The once shimmering and clean cloth now had memories woven in, memories of laying in the middle of real art, the real museum, the real world. They said she could take the blanket. She could take it to him and have a nice picnic like they used to. That involves They, she told them. Now it’s just Her. He’s gone. Picnics are surrounded by happy memories of life, not death. The innocence of love,  not the pain of loss. They can’t understand that now it is just a blanket. Now it is only a piece of cloth, white, stained, useless. Besides, they left the blanket in the trunk of his car. The car. It’s in the shop still. She doesn’t want it fixed. They do. It is only a painful reminder of what once was. Like the carefully maintained landfill. The garage. His workbench, She would always find him there. They say she can go there too. They want her to find him, but he’s gone. It was confirmed. She watched him be lowered into the grass. He is not where they are looking. He is more than a body with a stone. If he is anywhere, he holds the stone. Pounding on his newest project, only hours away from completion. But he isn’t there. She’s looked. He’s gone. They weren’t like this. They were the happy pair. She looked back with remorse. They never got as far as letting a tear slip out of their eyes’ when they missed each other. Instead, they called, saw each other, smiled. They went for a visit, like the people said to. She is going to visit. She promised him she’d see him later. She’ll see him soon.

Thank you for reading my story. I would love for you to share it with your friends! I hope you enjoyed. 

-Emma