It’s Time

Opening the large, blackened door and carefully closing it behind her, she was greeted by the familiar, crisp, chill tingling her cheeks and that reddened them gently. The cement steps below her had cracked over the years and were now grayed but still held her now lightened body firmly. She took her first large inhale of the evening air to bloat her lungs with the earthy smell of her mulched flower beds, yet was hit with a tinge of the rotting leftovers that had been stewing in her dumpster during the unnaturally warmed past few days. She didn’t want her son to have to empty out her fridge after realizing she had not bothered to eat the food he thoughtfully had prepared and stored for her.

Her yard, pitiful as it may be, did house a 400 year old oak tree between the eight foot space of yellowed grass, the steps, and the sidewalk. The tree had loomed over her for the past 50 years; it had watched her and her husband fondle each other as they rushed to unlock their first home together, giddy with the future ahead of them; it was there when her third miscarriage had decided to evict itself from her uterus while she was nurturing her spring tulips; it was there as she held back tears as her son introduced her to her first grandchild on the very steps she introduced her father to her son; it was there when her husband was being carried off by the EMTs swiftly as his heart was strangling him in anger from too many greased up burgers and she gasped for breath watching her best friend wrench in pain, fighting death’s grip and reaching for her wrinkled hand; it was there when she returned alone four days later.

Now as she made some unsteady steps towards what was coming next for her, she admired the tree’s presence in her life. She spoke softly to it, “Thank you, my friend.” The January breeze picked up for a moment, shuffling the dead leaves into a louder tap dance against her feet as if to say, “Goodbye, my child.” She smiled and a tear fell from her eye, creating a pathway on her cheek for the coolness to embrace her again.

Her head turned towards the empty street, cluttered by cars, cigarette buds, and the occasional array of different beer cans or bottles. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the very thought but she knew it was time. Her feet began to gravitate towards the call and she was off. She played with the wedding bands on her fingers during her journey; her band was solid with no fancy designs or artwork and the side of the band inside her hand had faint scratches she could not feel but often stared at early in the mornings as she dressed, planning to have a designer refurbish it some day even though that day has never came. The diamond was small but brilliant when pierced by the sunlight on golden summer afternoons. She loved when it sparkled in her day room, creating a rainbow refraction to dance on her white walls. The temperature of the metal matched the cold in her fingertips now making it difficult to feel for these details as she walked but the memories still filled her heart with delight and peace as she walked on.

The air grew lighter and calmer as she approached the riverside paths. Street lights illuminated chunks of the sidewalks and grew dimmer the further she walked from her home. Geese shit still speckled the area but her eyes were set on the blackness of the water. Even with her weakened vision, she could still catch glimpses of the tiny waves moving at their constant pace downstream. Just a few more glides and she’d be there. She stopped abruptly when she reached a clearing in the tall grasses that led directly to the water’s edge and contemplated leaving her rings on the bench behind her as a clue. She turned sharply and approached the poorly painted wooden bench that had clearly been sat on repeatedly for the last decade as it dipped in the middle. The rings laid in the palm of her hand and the diamond caught the faint light of the streetlamp like it had in her day room. She naively looked around for the dancing rainbows but the blackness of the night sky engulfed them selfishly. She decided at that moment she could not part with the precious metal and slipped it back on her finger, back into the ring indentation that naturally formed into her finger over the years. She returned her attention back to the clearing in the grass and walked towards the water, calmly breathing in her last moments before falling gently to the arctic friends of the river who took her peacefully into their arms, hushing her brain and soothing her heart with their lullabies.