what the water gave me - h.s.

just a boy and just a girl

October.

"Well, I think anything you want to do would make her proud babe, just don't stress over the small stuff, yeah?" Jo draws out as I sit on the stool opposite of her putting her dishes in the sink.

We just ate dinner. Although, the distinct nausea washing through me every now and again from the universe telling me something's not right...and that whatever it is is coming, did very little to fuel my appetite.

The two of us have spent the past few hours talking. Jo sharing details of Mitch and her's date the other night, and I sharing what I'm planning on doing for Aunt Bea's memorial.

Two years.

Two years since the kindest, most loving and caring lady to walk this troubled earth, passed.

Last year, Jo and I went out to get a drink in remembrance of Aunt Bea and that night we decided to make it an annual thing.

I like to think Aunt Bea enjoys us living in her spirit, rather than dwelling on things we cannot change.

I miss her day by day and usually I don't do much, besides visiting her grave and cleaning it up a bit. Maybe stay for a few hours and talk to her, talk to the ancestors, and if I'm lucky, watch the moon rise and glow down on her last resting place.

Every year, there has been a full moon on the day marking her last. I like to think it's the universe apologizing for taking her too soon, but even so (despite how delightful that sounds), I have to remind myself that everything happens for a reason.

The ancestors just needed another one.

This year, Jo suggested inviting the boys to get drinks with us, although not without insisting, "but only if you're comfortable!"

Which I really appreciate, however, I only told her I'd think about it. It's a heavy day for me. All the emotions and memories coursing through my mind. It's just tough to think about sharing all of that with someone else sometimes.

But I don't think I'm very good at following my own words, seeing as I've become closer to Harry as the weeks pass despite not wanting to put baggage onto others.

He just makes it so hard to be alone now.

Maybe it's because of his soft eyes, or kind smile, maybe even because of his honeyed voice that never fails to soothe me into close comfort.

But for whatever the reason that has me so hooked on him, I don't think I mind it too much.

Speak of the devil and he shall come.

A knock on our door rings throughout the apartment. Now, I know it could really be anyone, but this gut feeling is telling me there's one curly haired boy definitely behind the purple wood entrance of our home.

"It's like 7, who could that be?" Jo looks at me with furrowed brows and a look of pure confusion across her face.

I just shrug and she makes her way the short distance to open the door to our, although unannounced still welcome, guests.

"Oh my god, it's the boys!" She exclaims, a gentile smile adorning her lips.

"Hey! What are you guys doing here?" I hear her ask as she opens the door for them to come in.

Sets of heavy footsteps along the old wood floor sound out as they walk closer to the kitchen where their shoes switch to tap on the tile beneath my feet.