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Saturday, July 17, 2010

Playing Chasies

 
Playing chasies with the past is like searching for footprints in the snow. Nevertheless, he still wants to retrace those footprints even though they long ago been blown away. He cannot give up. He has to find her. Sarah. Where could she be while it's so cold outside? Was she wearing the scarlet scarf he gave her for Christmas? Maybe she went to the local book store? Sarah loves books. So in the howling snow, he trudges to the book store.

    He pushes open the glass door. The sweet twinkling of the bell informs the sleeping owner of a customer. He nods his head towards the elderly woman and continues to weave between the thick shelves. In between the dusty covers lingers the scent of coffee. Sarah usually sneaks in a coffee from the cafe next door. Ah that's right. The cafe. She is probably in the cafe to shelter from the icy wind while drinking her daily dosage of caffeine. A Sarah without her caffeine is a baby without his lollipop: cranky and a headache.

    Standing outside, he rubs at the condensation on the window of the cafe. He sees couples huddled together as close as possible to the massive fireplace in the back corner. Children drinking hot chocolate while their parents sips down coffee. But no Sarah. Where could she be? Maybe she was buying groceries for today's dinner? Maybe she was walking Travis? He does love long walks in both rain or shine but. . . Something is not right. Something is nagging in the back of his mind. What is he forgetting?

    Admitting defeat, he sits and gazes out onto the lake that became an outdoor ice rink. He should take Sarah out ice-skating sometime. He could almost imagine it: Sarah flying gracefully over the almost transparent ice with the snow fluttering like cherry blossoms in spring. Tears fall and become miniature ice balls on the ground. He's crying but he doesn't know why. Then he notices a couple walks by, swinging hands with their daughter-.

    Emily. His six year old daughter. When was the last time he fed her? Did he pack lunch for her today? Is she wearing warm clothes? Is she at home waiting for his return? Shit. He had totally forgotten about Emily. Standing up, he almost slams into an elderly woman and runs home. He barges into his house and bellows, "EMILY." His young daughter leaps off the couch and into his arms, "Where were you Daddy? I was worried." He holds onto her tightly and smiles sadly, "I'm sorry. I was searching for something and lost my way. I'm sorry. I won't leave you alone any more." He walks to their fireplace and picks up the photo of a young woman with amber hair. He kisses it's icy glass gently and begins cooking dinner.
Sarah.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

both sorrowful and soothing.

Eva said...

This was incredibly powerful. You paint a picture with your words and I can see every moment. This was painfully sad. Loss stays with us forever.

Unknown said...

@Vencora: Thank you.
@Eva: Thank you. Yes, loss stays with us forever but the present is always there to remind us that wwwe're not alone.

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