The calm of the park seems to calm me.My tears are drying, the pressing on my throat lessening, the taste of bile in my mouth fading.I sit on the park bench and stare at the pond with the sparkling fountain.
I can see his face, but it no longer hurts.
I can feel his touch, but it’s no longer there.
I can hear his voice, but it blends in with the rest of the sounds around me.
I am holding my camera that has all the pictures of us: together.
I have never deleted even one.
As I watch, a bird swoops down over the park, the lake, the fountain. Its wing tips, skimming the surface softly.
I take the picture without thinking. I look down at the screen, the bird is there, beautiful, swooping, glorious, and powerful.
In control.
I take a deep breath as I stare at the picture I have taken. Maybe there is such a thing as rebirth. Maybe he could come back, as something different.
Maybe he was that bird.
And maybe not.
Maybe he sent it to calm me.
And maybe not.
Maybe he’s up there, loving me.
And maybe not.