Full Bloom

A Story by Kendralokai

Everyday this summer I have to re-wrap my wounded knuckles. The gauze grips my skin, hanging on for dear life, in a way you never will. Those hot blistered nights I would think; Who am I? What do I have? Why doesn't life amaze me? I tasted pure utter bliss eight years ago on Thanksgiving night, but it was swallowed a week after the following Christmas as you and I attended my father's final goodbye. After that, the air we breathed was no longer the same.

The cuts bloom on my knuckles like geraniums, suffocating my flesh instead of letting it exhale. I caress my own skin, connecting my fingertips with the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.

It is now fall, and my head is clearing, letting in small pockets of sunshine glide into my eyes. I compare myself to the falling leaves on a tree, allowing myself to change. My mouth is finally stretching into the most grateful upside-down parenthesis, and the wrinkles at the corner of my eyes are reappearing as my throat reveals a cautious laugh. Life is starting to amaze me again.

Winter started and the snow left behind your footprints, clouding my thoughts. Life felt like it was paused, and that was the worst part, there was no more moving forward. Fortunately, you went away, and I began to catch my breath.

I haven't seen you in a while. I'm beginning to forget your laugh, and I'm beginning to forget how to feel. My mind continues to play the scene where you kissed me goodnight as you got into our bed for the final time, long ago. I'm afraid I have lost the memories we made, and I am even more afraid that you lost them as well.

Today is the first day of spring, and the geraniums are in full bloom.