Before you is a path cut through tall grass.
Above you,
The sun is setting,
And it paints the sky pink and orange.
You can hear water murmuring nearby.
You walk toward tall,
Thick trees,
Birch and elm and oak lining a brook.
You stop to watch it rush past,
Lean over and put your hand into its clear,
Cool flow.
Minnows slip between and around your fingers,
Their bodies slick and small.
You stand up,
Water dripping from your hand.
It feels chilled and wet when you pat it against your leg to dry.
Turning,
You see the path leads upwards.
A wisp of smoke curls from a chimney behind the tree line.
You climb toward it.
As the trees thin,
You see a tall,
White picket fence.
In the center is a trellised archway,
Climbed by curling honeysuckle vines.
Before you is a lush garden,
The fence lined so thickly with ivy and roses,
You can hardly see the structure holding them up.
Yellow and pink and red buds and blossoms,
Light and fragrant surround you.
A footpath winds through the flower beds.
Crowds of dahlias and daffodils,
Irises and hyacinth,
Lavender and peonies,
Snapdragons and sweet pea are all around you.
In the center of the garden,
A water fountain bubbles.
A pair of sparrows bathe in it,
Bobbing their heads under the water,
Flapping and fluffing their tiny wings.
A hummingbird drinks the nectar of a nearby daylily,
Darting from blossom to blossom,
An iridescent green blur of flight.
A breeze picks up.
It brushes over your face and through your hair.
Vines and flowers lift and sway gently.
You stand and follow the path that leads from the garden to the little home.
An intricately carved wooden door stands between two bay windows.
It is unlocked and you walk inside,
The old hardwood floors creaking beneath your feet.
Just inside is a living room with a deep green velvet sofa and a wing-back armchair.
A fireplace crackles just opposite the couch.
A clock rests on the hearth and shelves surround it,
Filled to the ceiling with old books.
You pull one out and flip tenderly through its aging leaves,
The smell of another time meeting you.
You turn and see the parlor just beyond the living room,
A round wooden table with two chairs stands in the middle of the room.
Floral wallpaper adorns the walls and a little crystal chandelier hangs delicately from the ceiling.
A hallway just beside the stairs leads to the kitchen at the back of the cottage.
The floor is black and white tile.
An old cast iron cook stove stands against the wall.
You suddenly hear the front door open.
You turn and walk back through the hallway.
Standing there is someone you love and have missed deeply.
They smile at the sight of you and you rush to greet them,
Pulling them into your arms.
Their shape feels familiar and comforting.
They smell the way you remember.
They say how happy they are to see you still holding on.
They tell you how much they love you.
The hum of their voice vibrates against your chest.
Joy rises up inside you.
It moves through you and seems to fill the whole space.
You ache with it.
You are both so happy.
Pulling away,
You examine their face.
Their eyes and the lines around their smile.
Their hand traces the side of your face gently.
You can see them taking in all the ways you may have changed or aged since they last saw you.
You look at each other for a long while.
You each take a seat at the table.
Don't ask what has been on your mind.
Tell them.
Share your worries and your fears,
Your aches,
Your hardships.
You can tell them anything.
They listen with compassion and concern.
They offer you their love.
They reach to hold your hand.
What do they say to comfort you?
There is something you want to ask them.
Still holding their hand,
You ask your question and hear their reply.
You both stand and walk outside together.
Night has fallen.
The sky is clear and pricked with a billion stars.
You lay on the ground and watch them glimmer.
Wildflowers sway in the breeze around you.
The moon is a delicate crescent.
You remember other nights under the same moon as you listen to the sound of a soft wind whispering across the grass and rustling the leaves in the trees.
Water in the brook murmurs below you.
You listen to your loved one beside you.
Their breath is even and slow.
You feel safe.
You feel still and whole and loved.
The place in your heart that they hold is no longer empty.
Its fullness is sweet to you and your soul is soothed.
You feel the parts of you they created come alive again.
You stay together there,
Listening to the night sounds,
Watching planets and falling stars,
Feeling the pull of gravity on your head and arms and hands,
Your back and your legs and feet.
They seem to sink into the earth below you as it slowly turns.
I miss you,
You say.
I'm here,
They reply.
In the peace of the moment,
You realize all the ways they never left you,
The songs that bring them to your mind,
The words of encouragement that stayed with you,
The experiences you shared,
Their support in difficult times,
The conversations,
The advice,
The tears.
They stayed.
The sound of their voice,
The way you remember they fit in your embrace.
Your bond still exists regardless of how long it's been or how far away they are now.
Their absence hasn't truly left you without them.
Just as the moon has stayed in the sky,
The glow of their memory burns like a candle in your heart.
You will feel them even when you can't see them.
You will be guided by the stars they have hung in your soul.
Those lights will never go out.
They will never truly be gone.
