It’s almost time. Any day now. I think I am ready, R. I think after months of denial, grieving, anger and helplessness I am finally at the stage of acceptance. I am ready to let go. My diseased body is killing me. Figuratively and literally. But months of carrying on with the physical pain and ache has almost done me in.
I think I am finally ready to join you out there. Well, almost. There is one last thing to do. One last trip to embark upon. Everything else, I crossed off our list. Yes R, our list.
I stand up and slowly wobble over to the rickety old desk at the corner. The light from the desk light feels faint but I can do everything by the feel of my fingers now. My joints ache, my bones hurt but I cannot complain. My body has served me well. Now it’s time to renounce it and move past into the vast expanse of the afterlife, the endless vacuum out there, whatever happens next.
I run my hands over the contents of the drawer. The diary where you used to maintain our expenses, our trip calendar, your poetry book, the albums. I have done these a million times. Taken them out and felt them, smelled them. I still feel your presence in them. And under these, I find what I am looking for. I pull it out gently.
It still feels like it was taken just yesterday, though cracks have developed over time. The thin layer of film has worn off at the corners. But the image is fresh in my mind. I do not have to look at it. It is etched in my memory. The grey white sand, the white kaftan you wore. Your dainty young hands in my well rounded ones. And the rings.
"Day 4 – 27 Jun – Write a story about a character who finds out that he or she is dying and has been knocking things off his/her bucket list and has finally reached the last item."
I think I am finally ready to join you out there. Well, almost. There is one last thing to do. One last trip to embark upon. Everything else, I crossed off our list. Yes R, our list.
I stand up and slowly wobble over to the rickety old desk at the corner. The light from the desk light feels faint but I can do everything by the feel of my fingers now. My joints ache, my bones hurt but I cannot complain. My body has served me well. Now it’s time to renounce it and move past into the vast expanse of the afterlife, the endless vacuum out there, whatever happens next.
I run my hands over the contents of the drawer. The diary where you used to maintain our expenses, our trip calendar, your poetry book, the albums. I have done these a million times. Taken them out and felt them, smelled them. I still feel your presence in them. And under these, I find what I am looking for. I pull it out gently.
It still feels like it was taken just yesterday, though cracks have developed over time. The thin layer of film has worn off at the corners. But the image is fresh in my mind. I do not have to look at it. It is etched in my memory. The grey white sand, the white kaftan you wore. Your dainty young hands in my well rounded ones. And the rings.
I have to go find those now. I have to go find those and bring them back. Then I’ll be ready. I promise you I will dig those out from where we buried them for infinity, never to be disturbed again. A memory to be frozen in time, we had said back then. I will dig those up and bring them back to you. Just like I promised you, R.
I tuck in the picture neatly into my notebook and place it inside the overnight case. We will make the final journey together.
I will see you in a while R.
I am ready.
I tuck in the picture neatly into my notebook and place it inside the overnight case. We will make the final journey together.
I will see you in a while R.
I am ready.
Picture Credit: Pexels |
The above post is post 4 of 7 in a series of posts written as part of a 7-day, 'Write Tribe Festival of Words June 2018' challenge. The one-day delay continues to cascade but I hope to catch up!
For a change, I incorporate two prompts in a single post this time! The image prompt and the below creative writing prompt.
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