Memorycemetery

As we lay in the grass, staring at the clouds in shapes of whatever our imaginations ould create, I felt like I could take on the world. She had that affect on me. She made me feel strong. Like I had a purpose.

She rolls onto her side, resting her head on her hands. She smiles at me, her blonde hair blowing lightly in the wind. I turn my head resting on my hand to face her, my dark hair blowing in my face. She slides closer to me, and we slowly lean towards each other, our lips colliding in an explosion of passion.

I met this girl two weeks ago, and I’m in love with her already, although I know that in a few days, when the summer ends, I know I’ll probably never see her again.

We met by chance two weeks earlier. It was my first day working on my grandparents farm. My eyes were drawn to her as she stocked peanuts on the top shelf at the local market, her shirt raising to expose the skin on her waist. I caught a jar she knocked off the shelf, inches above the floor.

“Thanks,” she smiled at me.

I started going to that store daily, for whatever reasons I could think of, just so I could see her. About a week later I found myself taking her for dinner after the store had closed one night. I started spending nights at her family’s farm, talking in the hayloft, climbing in the corn crib, or whatever else we felt like doing.

Before I knew it, I was here- lying in a field watching the sky, kissing a beautiful girl that I’d fallen in love for in two weeks.

Continue reading ‘Summer’

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Everyone has those days that they’ll never forget. Those days that have had such a large impact on someone that it changes them for the rest of their life.

I know I’ll never forget the happiest day of my life- the day that I got married to Alyssa, the kind of girl that every guy dreams of. I also know I’ll never forget the day that she was torn from my life.

I still remember hearing the phone ring, her voice whispering over the line. “I need help” she said, barely audible.

I remember getting to the scene of the accident. I remember her car being in the ditch, I remember the truck being on its side in the middle of the road. I remember all of the flashing lights and police officers and EMT’s. It all seems like a bad dream to me now. But the sun was shining by the time I got there. The sun doesn’t shine in bad dreams.

“You need to stop,” said a police officer as he held his hand to my chest in an attempt to restrain me.

That’s my wife!” I shouted as I saw her being lifted into the back of the ambulance.
I remember riding in the back of the ambulance, holding her small, cold hand in mine as she drifted in and out of consciousness, whispering “I love you” and “hang in there” to her, not even caring if she heard me or not. I remember the gash in her forehead. I remember the blood running down her arms. I remember the bloodstains in her shirt.

The worst part of this ordeal was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital, and the doctors coming out, telling me there were no improvements, hour after hour. Eventually they told me I needed to go home. I refused.

I was allowed into her room on the morning of the second day. I sat on the edge of her bed. Her hand found mine and held it weakly.

I love you,” she whispered, her eyes barely open.

“I love you too” was the last thing I said before I heard her heart monitor flatline. I held her hand in mine, tears running down my face, as doctors rushed in and pushed me out of the room.

I’ll never forget that day. It’s a recurring dream that haunts me every night I lay alone in bed. I’ll never forget that day.

Traverse

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