Sunshine State a Short Snort by Season

She hears strains of “Please Come Home for Christmas” and remembers life in Kentucky during that first Christmas there. A tsunami of thoughts overwhelm her as she chronicles their time together: She smiles as she recounts the day they met. She reminisces on their sharing. She recalls the wonder of their Journey. Then, she thinks of waiting until he passed out then locking the bedroom door – from inside the room and lying down beside him with her hand on him to feel any movement – so he couldn’t leave in the midst of a bender; the life-altering, ghastly scene each time she found him face down on the living room carpet…or kitchen floor…or bathroom rugs…or patio; all the precautions taken to ensure his safety when he was filled to the brim…and over-flowing…with alcohol. Then she thinks he is the only man she loved, adored, cherished…would never forget. The ultra flame for him burned homologous as the crematorium fire when he was no more.

Deep within her, she hears him – in words and phrases only he would use. He tells her he read what she wrote about him. He agrees that, yes, he is closer to her than the buttons on her blouse. He talks to her of her worries, her stresses, her losses, her love for him that he always remained aware of. And…he says he’ll be waiting. He’ll be there. But not now. It’s not her time. Not yet. He assures her they will be together – as they always thought they would. He calls her Sweetheart; Honey; Baby Doll. He’s still got it; she feels a new calmness about him…the way he puts it all together for her. The honesty with which he speaks with her. He always was on her side and she feels that even more strongly now.

He won’t admonish her for not making the drive to Florida. Although she had her route planned innumerable times. The drive alone felt so daunting and scary. She asked him to come to her and they would make the drive together. His penchant for Drink – ever in the way. Drink equaled fear. Drink equaled inaction. Drink equaled over-thinking then no ability to think. When the effects wore off, it was back to planning again. Then, the alcohol would beckon and grab him by the balls…and twist. He’d be gone again…and again…and again…

…and she’d be waiting. Waiting for the calls and emails and texts telling her he loved her still. He missed her; he needed her. When could they be together, he would wonder. He wanted her there and she wanted him here. Now, he is gone yet closer than ever. Still, she will never feel his touch or his kiss or his embrace. Although, late at night in the inky blackness she can feel him brush the hair from her face; feel his hand on her as though he lies there with her. He talks reassurance. He talks of their time together. He talks of what she should let go of and what to keep. He tells her what’s worth her time; and tells her to use her strength and power…not to give it up or away. He says she’s more than she knows. “Oh, Honey”, he says, “you can be so much more than lost, Sweetheart.”

Now, un-manifested behind The Veil. The veil, the world, that separates them. But, finally in the same state together. He easily returned to Pennsylvania; he doesn’t seem to mind now. She doesn’t seem to mind that he is a Shadow Spirit. His memories never let her go. The “loves” (although they were never him and could not plumb that Depth) she’s lived through cannot compare to him. They gazed in awe-struck amazement at each other; realizing they were the Genesis of Love. No one loved as truly, as deeply, as madly, as passionately as they. Yet they lived so many years in a parallel universe. When they could have been joined in the flesh yet again, they chose to wait for the mist.