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'WEdNEsd^y. M krc V a S, 2000
ThE ClAckAMAS
I had finally decided it was over. The letter from her hadn’t come.
It wasn’t going to come. The only thing left that I could do was pack away •
The painful memories of my beloved and forget.
I started with the drawer. I opened it, revealing its precious contents
One last time. I beheld a bundle of plane tickets. I had thought they would be
My savior; perhaps they were my undoing instead. There was a pair of soiled i
Pan ties she had given me, to help sate my savage addiction. I began to wonder
If she even remembered having made such a thoughtful gesture. Arid there were
The Journals I had made from those days. I had written so fastidiously, until
Somewhere it all went sour. I picked up the one she had given me before going
Away, the one covered with the brightly colored frogs. At a time it had smelled
Of her, but the scent had long since passed away.
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The memories came flooding back and I began to recall that fateful
Night on the stairs. I never expected she would be so bold as to kiss me
Suddenly, or how rapidly that kiss would change me inside. From that day on
AM Her mark was on me, and I belonged to her.
That became her day.
I placed the objects in a small box and continued my search. I
Started to peel the pictures from my wall, that grand monument to her which 1
Had continued to add to until the bitter end. I paused for a moment to listen to
The song I had set to play again and again as I worked.
It was her song.
Since the first hearing, it had reminded me of her. I’d listen to it,
Sometimes for hours at a time, and it would soothe me. Or I would burst into
Tears.
I turned to face my table. A bag of stones, a cheery yellow origami
Flower, and a pair of small photo books were all I had been left to love I
A Fmo'td1
glasses to wpe away tbe shn8in8 solution from my eyes. It was
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FinaHy f B’Wed at the cross on my chest I held it tightly and
Continued crying. Before going, she’d given it to me. It became my treasure
It was her cross.
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I would wear it at any occasion. I was proud to wear it To me if
as hke wearing a promise—to wait for her. I would’ve always kept that
romise. As my grandmother had lain dying in the hospital, I’d placed that
r 5°,^. k hCT hand‘ PerhaPs 1 was hoping that in her last hours with me she
Mil/ CSt°W SOme k’nd of silent blessing on that cross, so that my situation
r 11 ^aVe af>os^ve end. Of all the loved ones I was losing, perhaps I
could at least retain one. Maybe I put too much faith in the power of a
Woman. We buried her, and now in a way, I was buryinS^
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- i ve ima®>ned my own death more times than I can count,
wonder if she’d be at the funeral.
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