Lost Time

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. A blur of yellows, oranges and reds, a tornado on my driveway. It is Samhain. Halloween. The sun is setting, and the children are overtaking the streets in search of candy. I’m almost late. Rushing back inside, I quickly grab everything I need, tripping over my coffee table as I dart around my living room getting everything in order. The veil will be at its thinnest in the next few hours and I can’t miss it. Not again.

Stumbling out the front door barefoot as I shove everything in my almost-too-small backpack, I run to get through side streets and alleys, trying to enter the grove before the hour hits. Looking up to see the position of the moon and sun every few minutes, apologizing furiously to the people around me who grumble and scoff as I push past them. I can’t be late; I can’t miss it. My full concentration on the placement of my feet, one in front of the other, left foot, right foot, repeat. Falling now could ruin everything. As I hear the church bell ring to announce the start of the hour, I crumble into the grove’s entrance.

Silence.

No sounds of traffic, no laughing screams of children or their murmuring parents. I made it. I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding and gently toss my bag onto the ground. Pulling everything out and placing it aside, until I get to what I was looking for. The whole point of this semi-annual trip. Her skull. Scooping it out, running my hands over the grooves, divots and features, checking for any damage I may have accidentally caused her in my rush to get here. I kiss her forehead and lay her in a pile of leaves.

I pick up a piece of chalk and get to work. Getting on my hands a

nd knees, taking my time to make sure the circle is perfect, and the symbols are exactly right. One thing wrong and it will be another six months before I have another chance to see her. Placing black, white and purple candles just so, then giving the trees, plant life and animals that call this place home my thanks, for keeping this place hidden and alive for me to continue coming back to. I go back to her skull, singing softly to her as I lift her up, and tiptoe over to the circle, gingerly placing her down so that she sits right in the middle.

I begin to walk around the circle and chant, individually lighting each candle as I go. My words matching the speed of my steps as I slowly pace, moving from toe to heel. The wind starts to pick up and I increase my speed and volume with it, calling the spirits upon me, embracing their energy as they start to arrive. Wind howling, the air feels electric, spirits whirling around me hoping they are to be found. I call out to her. When all the candles go out at once and the wind stops in its tracks, I know she has found me.

“It’s been a while,” she remains silent, as I see her start to take form, her features remaining still, not giving me a glimpse into her feelings about how long it took for me to finally get here. I can feel my heart starting to break once again.

      “I’m sorry… You know how I’m always running late to things. I just kept missing the cut off point to do the ritual and-”

“Shut up.” My mouth falls agape hearing her speak, she had never spoken to me like that before. When she wasn’t… I squeeze my lips shut as I feel a single tear fall from the corner of my eye. I deserve this, I shouldn’t be acting like such a victim. I can’t bear the silence around us, her eyes pointed into my soul.

“I tried every time, I swear. I really-”

“I said shut up.” I don’t know why I always have to break every silence. I’m embarrassed. Ashamed. I can’t look at her, but her eyes continue to be locked on me. We sit in that silence for what seemed like hours but, what likely wasn’t even ten minutes. The pounding of my heart in my chest seemed like it could be heard across the city.

“I was worried you forgot about me,” As I hear her voice soften so does my body. Looking up I reach out to hold her face, only to feel freezing air as my grasping hand falls back down towards my side into a fist. How could she think that? Forget about her? I was ready to marry her.

“Anny… you were, are, my world,” The left corner of her lip turns up a little as she looks down. I guess it is my fault. These things always are. Never on time, too quiet, too clumsy, too unorganized. If I got my shit together, we would have seen each other years ago.

“You look different now,” She didn’t. I guess that’s what happens when you’re… I aged decades in three years full of grief and panic. She’s stuck in time. The same twenty-one-year-old girl I was so in love with all those years ago. We’ll never get the chance to grow old together now. Suddenly, I notice her figure starting to dissipate.

“Wait, no. This wasn’t enough time. I didn’t get to say anything!” Panicked, I run towards her, grasping at her mist of a body. Instead, I crumble forwards into a heap of flesh and clothes on the ground. I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t even tell her I loved her for fuck’s sake. Wrapping my arms around my knees I just sob. For a long time. Until the sounds of traffic and drunk teenagers on their way home from the various parties that night, start to fade back into existence.

Any other night it might look worrisome, someone wandering around the streets at 4am with bloodshot eyes. But not the morning after Halloween. I blend in with the rest of them. As I scuffle down my empty street in the early morning hours of November first, the leaves from earlier today are trampled, laying soaked in a dirty puddle. No longer a fire on the pavement.