THE LAST GIFT

June29

/ “Green Idea”/

It rains again. Yes, againbut this time it seems the rain does not bother youyou don’t seem to notice it? And what did you notice today, where did you go? Along which street? … Don’t you remember this either? You want me to tell you, OK, but better listen carefully I don’t want to repeat this story ever again, right

It is just you and me in the room. I’m alive but you’re just in my heart, in my thoughts, in my hands, on the picture faded by my caresses. And it is dark and quiet. The city boils there behind the curtains, behind the windows. I feel lonely without you. It was not like that before. We were outside and the wind whirled through my hair. You were talking to me and I enjoyed my company. We walked together through the grass and I was complaining for you. I wish I could go back for one magical day where we could be together back there on the meadow, where the sun is shining at noon and where his sheep were grazing peacefully. I remember that you used to bring slices of bread with salt and paprika and ask me: “Would you like one” and then you said: “Now I wish there was something sweet”. I remember those days like they were yesterday but it is no more. I close my eyes and I can see you, I can still recognize your face. Your eyes, oh those deep and joyful eyes. “Someday…” you said, “You will miss me, will you cry for me?”. I laughed and ignored the future. I dreamed of growing up, of visiting other cities and people, of running away. I thought there was something special about me. Someday I might write something grand, something exciting that would leave an impression on someone, something great and from my heart, but I was so much in a hurry for this day to come that I did not enjoy the time spent with you. There on the lawn it was not so bad to be together. When I think about it, it was even great. I did not know that I’d miss you so much. This pain, this sadness, as if something had died inside me when I saw you lying there, covered with flowers and folded hands, so quiet and silent, so real and yet so far, you were the focus of attention as always, but why, why did you leave. There were so many people and everyone was sad. I do not remember much of that day, it seemed to fly away as a short movie. In the bitter memories of that day I have glimpses of how I kissed you, I put my picture under your shirt, right there on the left, above your heart, and asked you to protect me, to guard me and I wished you luck. Then that woman, how she sang for God’s sake, how ugly her moaning was, I had a feeling I was being cut into strips and my blood poured out, and the throbbing pain goes beyond all limits. It transformed into something without limit and without time. And somewhere there my soul cried out in anger, fear and grief that you were gone from me. You loved music, loved to dance, in this moment of madness I wanted to turn on the TV and the volume up to give you a last second of life, to send your spirit to rest, with a smile, but I had no strength, as if I was frozen and with lifeless limbs. I looked and I was unable to see, I thought and was unable to perceive, to realize. These empty words that I spoke were deprived of emotion as if there was another me who controlled my mind. And I looked from above, trying to image that you were there with us. That you see us and ask us not to worry, not not fill our minds with grief, to move on and to cherish the moments with those around us. And the rain drizzled in fine and quiet drops as though it wished you luck in the new way, as if it tried to tell you that you’ll be lucky in the new place, but you did not notice it, it did not bother you, you could not feel it, you were unable to enjoy it. I tried to see the rainbow in every drop that fell, but my eyes reflected only the darkness of the dying day, a day in which you went away from me. You looked asleep but without your sweet snoring and you were leaving us with bitterness, leaving us to fight our fate, our life of which you were part and which you had given up or you were simply unable to defeat and to win some more time to be with us. I was looking at the flowers in the pots at the windows and thought how beautiful you were with a flower pinned to your ear and … I did not even notice when I had gone outside. The rain was still rippling but the raindrops seemed to caress my face. As if you were touching me with the raindrops and saying good-bye to me. I walked as in a trance until finally I reached the place where I you wanted me to be. There I stood, behind the house, in the garden, under the old walnut tree, and cried. I cried for the days gone by, for the memory, for you, … for us. I watched the drops fall from the leaves and sink into the crumbly soil. Several unpicked walnuts rolled in the mud absorbing the rain in their greenish black shells. I bent down and picked one. The warmth of its shell take me far back, back in time … I squeezed the walnut in my fist remembering those happy days when we walked in the meadows and chased the sheep when one of them went astray. I could see my stupid smile while I was walking with your through the grass and how I stumbled in the weeds to keep up with you. My hands automatically pulled the kernel out of the shell, but my mind was remembering long lost memories. The tears kept rolling down my face and in my hand I was still clutching hard the already naked nut. Then, suddenly possessed by a fever because of the loss I started picking the falling walnuts…

At the same time a large black walnut cracked perfectly when it touched upon the wet soil. Its shell broke into four equal parts and the kernel remained intact and shiny. I threw it on the pile I was making. The next nut that I took was again perfect. Another glossy kernel shaped like a brain fell on the top of the pyramid of the nuts. I threw there shells. I grabbed, crushed, torn apart each of them. Not all nuts were perfect. Some of them remained deeply hidden in their shells and like hermit crabs they would not get out of them. But I was stubborn. I kept fighting the rain and the mud, because you grandma, YOU, had taught me that. You taught to me to finish what I had started irrespective of the circumstances … they all went to the pile, ordinary and extraordinary, they all took me back to life … to the life without you. Then a big and heavy walnut fell from the tree and hit me on the head. The pain throbbed heavily but reminded me that I was still here. I bent over the large walnut, picked it with tears in my eyes and kissed it. I did not ask myself how you called me and what had happened over the last fifteen minutes. I did not know where I was and whether I would find the way back. I wanted to be with my wonderful savior through which you reminded me of one of your ideas… I began digging frantically in front of myself. The small hole was getting bigger and deeper. When it was filled with raindrops I put the little kernels of the big and hard walnut and buried it. Every day I went to water my last gift, your last testament to me, and so until a young but strong tree I grew up reminding me of you. I promised myself to plant a tree every year to remind myself the idea that you gave me. Thus you live and bloom with me in my heart and in my eyes as all the trees that I planted and that I will plant in the future.

P.S. If every man plants at least one tree in their life to remind them of a beloved person or event then we would be less lonely and happier and healthier.


Copyright © 2013. All rights reserved.

Posted June 29, 2013 by Meglena Ivanova in category Stories by Me

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