The Meeting

I remember everything. I’ve been here a long time. There isn’t much that goes on around me that I don’t notice. Every crack, every step. Every passerby. It is as if I know every leaf that falls, personally, and let them go to die. No matter how much changes, I will always stay. I know it’s a different world now than the one I grew up in. And even if I don’t like the difference, I still bloom. Year after year, I bloom. Bigger and more beautiful than the year before.

Sometimes I don’t notice time is passing until I step back and look at things. They change, you know? Like I guess other people can see that I’m aging, but I’ve always been me. I’m the same freckly, blood orange girl I’ve always been—yet I know I’m different. I’ve gotten taller, I’ve filled out. I see the curves that define my life that not only never mattered to me but also once never existed at all. It feels weird to be in the back of someone else’s car but I didn’t feel like driving. I’m glad the driver respected the sanctity of my silence. It wasn’t raining, but I saw rain, falling down the window—and though it is calming, it makes me feel existential. Why can I not be washed away with this storm? Down a drain or into a river. Why may I not evaporate into the sky and come back down a new vision? Oh, how I wish for such impossible things.

But that doesn’t matter now. Today, I’m going back to a different place. Somewhere time passes and makes no difference. Somewhere warmer than Florida, because it only exists in my memories and that is where the fire is. The hearth of my heart is coming on as I turn everything else off. I blink and suddenly I’m there, completely unaware with how time passes.

I attract so many things. People tell me I’m pretty. I think that is why they flock to me. I stand tall though maybe not so proud. I am quiet because I like to listen. Most people need a good listener. That is why they talk to me. They know I never judge or say a thing. My advice only comes from within. In a busy world, I beg them to slow down—at least for a little while. I live to be the comfort they never had even in their own mothers. I like to feel like a mother, because I am an orphan. Carried by the wind for a while until I found a good place to settle in. I guess after a lifetime of roaming, I just want them to feel comfortable; like they have a place to go. And when they leave, I know I can’t follow. My hope is that they take a piece of me: a flower or a leaf, wisdom, something.

My life is a fuckin’ joke, man. All this time I wasted. And for what? Here I am, peddling around town, nowhere to fuckin go cuz I’m a joke. Man. Am I broken or broke? Fuck those guys, man. I don’t want to be a part of that bullshit. I’d rather go crazy talking to myself then ever talking to them again! I swear, man, even if they call me? I won’t answer. Nope. I won’t. And now, I’m done thinkin’ about it. Just gotta focus on me and me needs to relax. You know what? I’m about to walk the path. That’s right, I’m taking it back!

I guess no one even has morals anymore. I guess I don’t know why I gotta be so uptight about mine… But hey, I’m doing things right! …Right? Ugh. How will I know which way to go when I’ve got corners to turn? Been lead in the wrong direction. Now it’s up to me to find my way again!

I live through the winter; I live for the bloom. But I live through the loss, too. When you are around as long as I am, you are bound to experience this. It seems a coincidence that it happens so often. I hate to see those around me cut down, destroyed, disrespected. I have to wonder if I’m next. I would stay here forever if they’d let me. But these days, who knows how much time I’ve got left? I’ll keep going as long as it’s up to me. Why not live a long and steady life if you are truly happy?

I miss him every day.

I know I smile sometimes but it never will be the same. I’m not old enough to be a widow, they say, and yet! Here I am. We all know these things are inevitable but you can never truly prepare yourself for it. Especially when it’s your person. We had a good many years together but it still felt too soon. Sometimes, I pretend we’re still seventeen and dancing just to get to know each other. And though nostalgia can be a pleasant treat, nothing about you feels pleasant anymore. I want to think of you, darling, I do. But oh, it hurts. It hurts so much. It is just the kind of hurt that I’ll always have. I’ll tell them I’m fine, I’m alright on my own. Someday I might even move on. But oh, Jimmy, it hurts. I always thought I’d go first because I just knew the minute we met that I could never live without you. I never stopped needing you. I’ll never stop loving you.

I just want to see where it all happened. The time we met. I remember it so vividly in my head. I can’t imagine how I’ll feel going back there. But I’ve got to do something. You are too special to forget. Maybe I’ll get the same rush, full of butterflies and doughy eyes. A little tingle in my spine. I live for that. I may never feel it again. Even after 50 years with you, I felt it. It is these moments I do miss the most.

They always come back. It’s in our nature to return to what is familial. And what creature doesn’t appreciate a little sun on their face? I live by it. It serves me and I serve it. Such a glorious exchange of life. The more you embrace it, the better it feels. They come back to feel it, too. They know I will provide relief when the temperatures rise and they can’t take the heat. They know that they can escape for a while, sit around, kick up their feet. I know that even though no one lives here, I make them feel at home. Sometimes, the forest is the only home we know.

I can see very far and very close. It’s more of a sense, like I know when someone is approaching. While I cannot outrightly catch a scent, there is a feeling I get. It is like a vibration, and every foot steps different. I know who they are even as they move from a distance. I remember her. She feels of citrus fruits and summer afternoons. She is brooding today, because her emotions are empathetic. Maybe she gets that from me. I see her moving. Slowly, woefully she looks for me. I know she is coming to find me, but she gets turns around. When she finally spots me, I can tell she lit up.

Her pace picks up when I notice yet another approaches. I smell a boy dealing with betrayal. I hear his heart break. He is hardly paying any attention at all as he pushes through the brush, holding back tears. One stick hits him the wrong way and I know those tears will fall. I want to hold him like I did when he was a child. I wish they didn’t have to grow up into men who fight each other over who can be the most insensitive. I hope he stays sweet forever.

The race is on for who will get the spot where the sun drips over the shady plot. The perfect breeze rolls through gently with each passing hour. A coolness in a pit of warmth. The boy avoids any semblance of a path as he bee lines to a patch of grass. He shakes his body as he jumps around before he collapses dramatically on the ground. He lets out a deep sigh and tells me,

“I missed ya.”

The girl looks up and see him basking in the sun. She seems somewhat frightened. She goes to turn away but I whisper strongly to her that I want to see her. She spins back with confidence and approaches this stranger situation. The boy has his cap pulled over his eyes as he lounges care-free in his crater of my roots. She moves silently forward only to step on a twig. When he snaps, he jerks up. She is fearful of his reaction, like a deer in headlights. When he sees her, he is absolutely stunned. Although time passes slowly, I think for a moment it stop. He jumped to his feet immediately, awestruck.

“Hi. I’m Scott. Do you want one?” He holds a beer out to her.

She is taken aback but is also delighted. “Yes. This is the perfect time for one. Thanks. I’m Amelia.”

They sit and chat for a while. I try not to eavesdrop. They’ll talk to me when they want me to hear. For now, I am just enjoying this. It is not often you see love happen from the beginning. Little do they know, an old friend of mine is coming upon them. She has not been the same since her husband passed. I wish I could do something for her, but I know being here helps. She just seems so hollow now. It is like she is the ghost.

“Hope you two are having a lovely afternoon.” She spooks them a bit on purpose. It gives us a good laugh.

“Oh, we don’t know each other,” the plucky girl blushed.

The older woman tells her: “Well, maybe you should, heh heh,” and I agree with her. It made the boy very nervous. “Do you want a beer?” He reached out with an unopened craft drink.

“Why, I would love that. I think it would make my husband very happen if I drank a beer.” She looked so peaceful, so grateful to have her hands full, and watching eyes. Maybe even a listening ear.

“So, like, what are you doing here…. Ma’am?”

She was shocked by his question. Not only was she expecting no one, but she had not realized how she came off.

“Ma’am?! God I am old.” She leaned into me as she took a swig of the beer. It made the boy even more nervous.

“I didn’t mean to imply anything, ma—miss.”

“Well, don’t dig it deeper, would ya?” The girl hit him.



The woman sat back with her beer and although she smiled it was clear she was crying. She stood up and scanned me. I knew exactly what she was looking for. Just as she remembers me, I remember her. I hold all the days with my children equally, but love will always be special to me.

She lit up with joy when she found what she was looking for. “See this?” She pointed to a heart carved into me, with her initials and his. “This was me and my husband.” People often wonder if it hurts me, to be carved. But I wonder the same of your needles and ink, and other things on human skin. I say it’s always okay with me as long as there is something to it.

“This used to be the hang out spot. We got set up by our friends one time. His friends said, ‘Oh, meet us down by the water, Jimmy!’ and mine said, ‘Meet us there, we’re gonna be with so and so’—his friends. We both showed up but none of them did. They thought they were so clever to, ha!” Her smile was looking better. “We were kinda pissed! Felt like we got played. But you know what? It was a great date.” She admired his handy work. “Seeing this brings it all back. Never had a better time with anyone I ever met.” She went on to tell about the life they lived together. Their marriage, their relationship, their business. She shared things she once hoped, and things she now fears. It was the best she felt since the day he left.

“I’m so sorry—” my citrus fruit teared up.

“Don’t be, sweetie. It’s nobody’s fault. God wants what she wants and she’ll take it when she likes. If it was his time, it was his time.” There was a silence. “Though I often wish it was also mine.” She finished her beer. “Probably best I get going.”

“Is it alright if we hug… Miss?” Scotty was moved from her stories. This was an endearing moment for Amelia to see such a sweet side of this boy she barely knew.

“I’d love that, honey! Thank you.” They all embraced for a while. Crying was inevitable. But it was a joyous occasion to be there together in this way. She left that day and I’m not sure that she’ll ever come back.

“Maybe we should carve our initials, too, maybe. Just in case,” she suggested shyly with a smirk. He smiled at her like they had known each other forever already. I know what love looks like. He pulled out a knife and began. “You’ll have to tell me how to spell it.”

And I remember those days, all equally brilliant as the next. Such casual moments in the moment, but what adds up to be life changing times in our lives. For the love we have for one another is the same love in every plant, every tree—in everything.