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Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Short Story: The Conversation

"I love you. Sorry, I'm late."
"Hi, I'm sorry I'm late. I guess the excuse doesn't matter. I'm just glad I made it. It's been a while. But I have to tell you this before you go. I love you. I appreciate what you did for me when I needed help. I appreciate the things you tried to teach me. I'm sorry I didn't learn it the way you wanted...

"I should have come sooner. I should have paid attention. But the clock seemed to have no hands. I watched a candle for an hour. Not sure why. My mind danced with the flame. Wax poured onto my lap. I didn't feel the pain. I've been numb for years. And then I realized I had to go.

"I hope you can hear what I'm trying to say. I never wanted to walk the walk we took. Too many rocks. And we could see the smooth path only yards away. Why did we have to take the rocks? I'm sorry. I don't mean to be angry. But the clock had no hands. And the wax. I'm mumbling now. I'm sorry.

"But I love you. And I wanted to say...

"Excuse me, sir," said the pretty nurse in her bright starched white uniform. Her muffled grin warmed me. "We're here to take the body out."


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1 comment:

  1. I really felt this post. And can relate. Both my parents have passed and I miss them and am regretful - even though I could not and still cannot do it their way.
    P.S. I have an older computer - only 5 actual years, but you know how that goes... and your wonderful page loads in jerks and starts and just when I think I can settle in and really dig your words it jerks to the bottom and a bunch of video links, etc... only one word for that aspect of your site. Blech!
    Maybe when I have a brand spanking new computer it won't bug me - or even happen. But some of us have old puters. And I wanted you to know we are here reading.
    Cyber hug!


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