Can You See Me?
His glasses on the bedside table. His lingering smell on the pillow. His clothes hanging limply in the closet. His old worn, leather billfold on the foyer table. All the reminders of a life lived.
She examined the room bewildered at all the necessities of life. Everything suddenly hollowed in appearance without the man who needed them. But the glasses kept staring at her. How could he see? He was never without them. She laid down with her head on his pillow wishing she could bottle and distill his scent. The essence of him. She wrapped herself in his shirt. Oh how she needed one last hug.
Her worst fear had been realized. She was alone. The house that had been full of the echoes of children’s laughter, yells, fighting, and screams had long been empty of that noise. It had been the two of them for so long. A comfortable silence. Now it was deafening. She thought about those cold, snowy nights when she used to shovel just to enjoy the weighty stillness and now she realized all the time she wasted. All that strung out before her were a series of unending quiet days and nights.
The phone had long stopped ringing. Everyone had stopped checking in. They had moved on with the course of their lives as was the natural way of things. She never blamed them. How many times had she been guilty of the same sin.
She moved to put away his glasses but stopped herself. What if he still needed them she thought as she slipped into the welcoming arms of sleep.