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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1767247-Touching-the-Stone
Rated: E · Article · Emotional · #1767247
A short story of having, loving, losing
The gusty, howling wind echoed through the trees, swaying the branches as if they were dancing, like elegant ballerina's moving in synchrony to the sound of an orchestra. Temperatures were not expected to get above freezing, though it didn't much matter to her. Her feelings of resentment and abandonment created the sensation of ice running through her blood anyway. Her walk continued, as she constantly brushed the stray strands of hair from her face. She hiked up her collar as a single tear cursed its way down her cheek. She glances up to the sky, only to notice a single springtime robin,displaying a valiant effort of flight, battling against the wind, in hopes of finding its way.

Forcing her hands deeper into the pockets, she continued to wander aimlessly, almost in robotic fashion, as they have taken this walk together many times over the years. Arm in arm, they would share stories, seek each others advice, and share many laughs and tears. She doesn't look up, instead choosing to watch each step she takes as one foot, in front of the other carefully and solemnly meets the ground.

They would meet for lunch, always sitting on the patio of this elegant french bistro downtown. An easy walk for both of them from work, a simple place where they can meet in the middle. He became predictable with his food, his table manners and even how he held his utensils. She recalls how she would just sit and stare at his face, admiring the strength and conviction conveyed in the lines around his eyes, his formidable jawline and the perfection of his hair. Only then did she realize she still had on the pearl necklace he gave her for Valentine's Day, three weeks ago. She gently reaches up to the strand around her neck, and fingers the beads, one by one, to ensure they all were still there. And with each bead she counts, brings back a stark reminder of the number of days it's been since he just suddenly left.

The countless "I love you's" now appear to be nothing but misleading affection, and the promises of "always be there for you" were anything but truths of the heart. As another tear rolls down her cheek, she wonders what she could have done differently; something, anything to make him stay. Instead, he was done. No words, no letters, no apologies...just simply gone.

Through all of this wondering, she finds herself at their favorite place. This is the place where countless summertime picnics would be held, sharing bottles of wine, surrounded by a multitude of flowers emitting an everlasting aroma of serenity. They would unfold their blanket in front of this large, grey stone, and settle down for a quiet, isolated lunch, reminiscing of the past and envisioning the future.

This stone was odd, and distinctly different than any other she had seen, which always brought her a sense of calmness and security she was never able to find elsewhere. He would constantly remind her of the power within this stone, as it was their secret place to escape when life seems to get the best of both of them. "Touch the stone", he would say to her, "and all your troubles will go away!" Her anger begins to build from deep within, as she again recalls the false promises he made to her, only now to find herself alone and despondent, needing someone to lean on, to share the pain of disappointment and hurt she has suppressed since he left.

As she looks closer, the cold wind still relentlessly blowing, she raises a hand to brush the hair out of her face. There is evidence, since the day he left, that he was here too. She reaches out to touch the stone, remembering his words, and the swell of tears she has been saving, began flowing steadily. The pain and despair, the sense of feeling alone and abandoned had all but disappeared as she rubbed her fingers across the letters of her mother's name and dates of birth and death. She then slid her trembling fingers across the newly engraved name of her father! While seated in front of the stone, she reached with one hand, once again finding the pearl necklace draped across her chest, and with the other, still trembling fingers, rubbing the date of death as February 14th. She realizes, within minutes of touching the stone, her world suddenly became more peaceful and serene. A sense of calm had washed over her as she heard, somewhere from a distance, "I love you, and I will always be there for you!".

She glances up to the sky, only to notice a single springtime robin,displaying a valiant effort of flight, battling against the wind, in hopes of finding its way. As the wind continues its relentless onslaught, she hikes up her collar and brushes the hair from her face, realizing that she too, will find her way!
© Copyright 2011 Bladesheath (bladesheath at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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