He promised me a home, where we’d raise our five children—two girls and three boys. We’d have a big garden at the back, where they’d run around and build forts out of old cardboard boxes. He promised me a home, where I’d cook breakfast every morning and welcome them home with dinner at night.
She spends a lot of time here, just walking back and forth, kicking leaves around. She doesn’t know why but somehow, she finds herself in the same spot everyday.
Today, as she was walking to the post, she saw that someone was leaning on it. She walked faster to see who had taken her place.
We had lost touch through the years. I moved away and our daily coffee dates turned into once-a-week Skype sessions. Then, it eventually became monthly emails— almost as if we had subscribed to each other’s newsletters. Today, I remembered her and tried calling her. “Sorry the number you have dialed is no longer in service.”
I always try to stay positive, because that’s what I’ve been told to believe. That everything will turn out alright, that in the end, I will be okay. So every morning, my prayer goes like this, “Thank you for today and for the blessings I’ll receive.” Even if every night, I cry myself to sleep.
They had been passing each other in this spot every morning. Exactly at 10 o’clock, he would head out with his laptop bag on his right shoulder, his left index finger, adjusting his glasses. She would be passing this way, tucking her hair behind her ear the moment she passes him.
Will they ever say hello?
I had been dreaming of sleeping in then I woke up to The Cool Kids vibrating through my phone.
With eyes closed, I stumbled around my bathroom and tied my hair into a messy bun, still dripping wet from the shower.
My mother got confused. “What are you doing up so early on a Saturday?”
I like being alone. On some days it gets lonely, yes. But other days—like today—are better than most.
Today I went to the park to take pictures. There was a little girl on the swings and two boys running around with towels on their backs that flew up in the air like capes.
We’d been out all day and here we were, sitting in my garage.
“What’s bothering you?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. He just stroked my hair and looked down at his feet.
“I know something’s wrong,” I insisted. “What’s wrong?”
It always starts out this way and ends with me getting a kiss good night.
