Prompt:

Fire. Smoke filled the air. The flickering flames, followed by the searing heat. The feeling of a dry throat, and the realization that water is nowhere nearby.

The Loss of You

Gone are the days when we would run through the fields.

Hand-in-hand.

Beaming smiles plastered upon our faces.

The feeling of utter bliss.

The feeling of togetherness.

The feeling of happiness.

Gone are the days, when you would talk with me, sing with me, laugh with me.

Because of the greedy flames, eating, eating, eating.

Devouring all in their path.

And you.

You were in their path.

I had stepped away.

Now I wish I had not.

Wish I had stayed with you.

But I did not.

And now we are universes apart.

   I set the poem on the cool shiny stone, glimmering in the afternoon sun. I'm no poet, but this one had to be my best in the past month. When I wrote it and read it over, I almost felt like I was with him again.

   It reminded me of that day when we had been running. Running, running, running. He had declared a race to the other end of the field. It hadn't been hard to beat him. He had been too overconfident. He had underestimated me. I can remember so vividly, the look of astonishment on his face when he finally reached the tree I was leaning on. A smug grin had plastered mine, as he panted, and sat down next to me. I had rolled my eyes as he claimed to have let me win. He claimed to have given me a head start. Yeah right.

   Every morning when I woke up I would look forward to seeing him. Hearing his new joke, or watching him perform a new trick. His charm was more than enough to make me smile.

   But now that was all... gone.

   Those days were gone.

   I was hit by a wave of crushing regret. Why had I left the house that day? Why?

   Regaining my composure, I trudged away from the gravestone. I got back into my car, and drove away from the cemetery.

***

   Driving, driving, driving.

   Trying to get home before dark.

   I wanted to see him this evening before he went to sleep. If I didn't get there before he went to sleep, I'd have to wait for tomorrow,because he would wake up in the morning before me. Work had been stressful lately. Businesses lowering pay, and pushing employees. We had barely seen each other all week. I missed him.

   I finally turned onto our street. I pulled into the driveway—parking at the end so I didn't have to drive so far—and turned off the engine. After hopping out, and locking the door, I ran up the driveway. When I turned the corner, I stopped dead in my tracks. So did my heart.

   The house was on fire.

   And he was in there.

   Cruel, greedy flames devoured all the wood work, and flames burst from the inside, setting the grass aflame. The searing heat made me stumble backwards. There was no one to catch me. I hit the gravel hard. Still on the ground, I reached for my phone, and dialed 9-1-1.

***

   The phone rang in, filling the silence of my office. I let it ring for a few seconds before answering it.

   "Hello?" my mom asks from the other end.

   "Hey," I say. "How are you?"

   "I'm fine. How are you?"

   "Fine."

   "How's work?"

   "Same old." I tell her refusing to confess how terrible I was feeling.

   "You don't sound fine."

   "Well guess what," I say angrily, temper rising. "My life isn't perfect, and it will never be. And it's none of your business how I feel."

   "Please calm down." Her voice crackles slightly. Either it was static, or she is about to cry.

   Oh no.

   When my mother cries, it makes your heart drop. It makes you feel like someone just killed your favourite puppy right in front of your face. And it always makes me cry too.

   "Please calm down, Mom." Now it's my turn to calm her down.

   "Okay," she says swallowing. "I'm okay now. And please understand this, Freda, it's my job, as your mother, to make sure you're okay. It is my business. This is all my business. And I've been noticing ever since..."

   "No,"I interrupted, not ready to hear his name. "Please don't bring this up."

   "Okay," my mom said, taking a deep breath, like she always did when she was thinking. "Ever since... that happened, you've been different, and maybe..." she trailed off.

   "Maybe what?" I prompted.

   "I'm just thinking that maybe..." she stopped again. "Maybe you should... move on."

   "WHAT?" I scream into the phone. Rage courses through me, and I squeeze the phone so tight I think it might shatter in my hand.

   "It's just..." my mother stops again.

   "It's just WHAT?" I yell even louder.

   "Please calm down," she pleads, practically in tears. "Please calm down, and heard me out. Please."

   "Fine. What do you want to say?" I ask bitterly.

   "It just seems like..."

   "Don't say the name," I interrupt.

   "Okay. Fine. It just seems like he is affecting your life so much... even after he's... gone."

   "I don't care if you hate him!" I yell, losing my temper once again."And I really don't want to talk to you anymore, because all your doing, is infuriating me, and I don't like it!" I slam down the phone, and start panting from my outburst.

   Nothing my mom said would ever take away my feelings for him.

   Nothing would ever take away my sorrow and heartache.

   Nothing would ever take away my love for him.

   Nothing would ever take my away love for Brian.

   I realized I had not only thought his name. I had said it out loud.

   "Brian." It took me another few seconds to realize I'd said it again.

   "Brian, Brian, Brian." Every time I said the name, another small piece of my heart snapped back on. Another. Another. Another.

   And once I was done repairing myself, my heart, and my feelings, my thoughts suddenly had a renewed clarity to them.

   I began to think about my life choices over the past months and year. I hadn't cleaned the house. I hadn't done the dishes. I hadn't eaten a full meal. I hadn't done anything fully. Would Brian really have wanted me to continue to wallow in my sadness?

   No.

   The small thought had so much meaning.

   And truth.

   Would he have wanted me to not live my life to it's fullest?

   No.

   Would he have wanted me to move on, and live a happy life despite my heartache?

   Yes.

   Would he have wanted me to move on, but still remember him?

   Yes.

   Then that I would do.