She ran down the stairs, dangerously close to tears, she knew she had to hold on. Even when she was falling apart, she knew she had to, simply hold on.
Pulling her cape close as she was hit by the cold winter breeze, she quickened her pace. It was almost as if she was in a hurry to get away from someone, something as fast as she could.
The familiar bench came into sight and she made a dash for it. She sat down and extended her hand underneath the bench, she knew exactly where to look. There it was, in the moonlight you could see the bright cut glass on the lid, and she opened it, barely aware of the stream of tears rolling down her face. They shone like pearls cascading down her cheeks as she gingerly held the contents of the box in her hand. It was her treasure, the first fountain pen he had bought for her, his beaming smile as he held her in her arms when she was baby. He was always happy when he was with her – his daughter was his pride. She could still smell his cologne on the hand woven scarf she had made for him wrapped around his letters to her. She buried her face in it, feeling him right by her side. Just the comfort she needed to steady her self.
Ma, she heard the all too familiar sound calling out from the shadows. ‘Ma’ are you there? ‘I am here darling, on the bench’ she answered while she put here treasure back and stashed the box under the bench, hidden from everyone’s eyes just as she had been doing it for the last two years since she had lost him. She quickly wiped her tears on the sleeve of her shirt and with a smile on her face turned to face him
One look at her face and he knew, he always knew. ‘He is never coming back ma, you have to let him go’ She smiled at him, so much love she felt for this little man who knew her better than anyone in this world. He sat down beside her, took her hand in his little palm, comforting her. Footsteps behind made them both turn around instinctively, together.
There he was, with a warm throw and a flask of freshly brewed coffee flask in his hand. The little one squealed ‘Pa, you are home,’ the joy of seeing his father was evident, the happy laughter infectious enough to get her to break into laughter herself. She smiled at him, and patted his hand, he held her tight and whispered, ‘you are not alone, and you never will be.’ She smiled for him and whispered to herself ‘I always was and I always will be.’
Missing you and all that you mean to me..
Without you nothing I be,
You lifted me and held me high,
Said that I could soar the sky,
Now you’re gone, left behind is me..
Without you, nothing I be..