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It’s silly. When I think about it now, I know for sure I’ve never known the difference. To think that some that are so young believe that they know the difference, is laughable. I’ve only known the latter of the two, the lesser of the two, the much more common of the two.  I’ve never known the first, the foremost, the best. And to think that the difference is so simple, yet so complicated.

The difference is in the rain. The difference is in our senses. It’s in the smell of the grass, the feeling of dew, and the sight of nothing. It’s in the laughs, and the playful smacks, and the springs of the trampoline.  It’s the sound of thunder, and the look we gave each other, and then the rain falling. Drizzling. Then pouring so hard, it’s difficult to see. It’s looking at him and seeing and feeling nothing but the rain, and doing what the rain tells you to do.  Slow-moving, and hearts beating, the rain tells you to fall in love and you listen, and you feel, you smell, you taste, but you don’t see. You see nothing, until 6 words, “do you want to go inside?”

You see, you stare, you breathe, you nod. You hear the footsteps in the mud, feel the friction between two soaking hands, the chill of a metal doorknob. Dryness, quiet, peace, a race up the stairs. Time slows down again, the hearts beat faster again, and the rain screams at you through the window to say six words, and so you ask. You ask, he stares, he nods. Time speeds up, the hearts intertwine, the eyes shield themselves from the air. Breaths are taken, names are spoken, hands are travelling. The rain pounds, it yells to love. You gasp, time slows, he stays. The rain whispers, subsides, it’s satisfied. The hearts never separate.

The difference is the rain. The difference is the senses. The difference is making love or having sex. The rain gave me the first.

(Image credit: http://vi.sualize.us/view/d5750a7a8a481a522cba6456bed475c3/)

My feet slowly traced the wooden dock as I took my time walking down the edge. I watched the sun rest on the water’s horizon, wishing to see the silhouette I’ve been waiting too long to lay my eyes on. The smell of salt filled my nostrils as I allowed myself a seat on the edge of the wood. I sat still and listened to the waves whisking back and forth on top of each other. Seagulls called out to each other to break the peaceful quiet, scraping the orange sky with their swift movement. I closed my eyes to breathe in the summer air, the air from the sea, the sky, the salt. I breathed it all in, letting it wash over me. I awaited your return on the edge of the dock that day, caressing the envelopes in my hands. You had sent four throughout the years, as many as you could send. The heart shaped seals were broken and cracked from the envelopes being opened and closed again one too many times. The envelopes themselves had rips at the corners, the once blankly white paper getting to be too old.

As I traced the paper with my fingers, I filled my mind with memories. I tried to remember the feeling of your presence with mine, the way your lips tasted, the static between our hands when we touched. But it was hard to recall, much to my disappointment. I faintly remember the warmth of your body heat near mine, how your eyes looked when you were scared, or how your soothing voice sounded when it breathed it’ll be okay.

“I promise you, we’ll be okay.” You said, your eyes as loving as they were allowed. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I desperately searched for words to say.

“I know we will. I’m not worried about us. I’m, well, I’m worried about you.” You grabbed my hands, entangling them in yours as if to take them into safekeeping, and brought them up to your face, resting them against your mouth. You closed your eyes and lightly kissed my hands. Your eyes met mine.

“I will never leave you alone.” You whispered.

I remember how your breath felt on my fingers, still so close to your mouth. I closed my eyes and visualized the memory in my head a couple times over, then opened your first letter. The first one I had received in the mail, my first smile since you had to leave.

Cathryn,

I apologize for the delay of this letter. I can only imagine how much of your time is spent waiting. I promise you that I write you as often as I can, but it is not very often. I hope you won’t expect many letters from me, but still believe in my love for you.

America is more beautiful than you and I have read it to be. The cities are filled with astounding architecture, and outside of the cities is even more beautiful in its own way. During my travels, I discovered a lake just after a meadow. I just know it would take your breath away. I cannot wait to come back and take you here. I promise, I will, and you will be far from disappointed.

I must go. I’ll write again whenever it may be possible. I love and miss you dearly. Keep me in your heart.

Jack

I held the letter to my chest, wanting to cry and to smile all at once. But I stayed at ease. I neatly folded it the same way it always has been, and neatly tucked it back into the envelope. I remember receiving that letter, exactly 6 years and 42 days ago. It was only 1 year and 323 days into your trip.

“How long will you be gone?” I asked, looking down, avoiding your gaze. It was difficult to keep my voice steady.

I remember asking that question as if it had only been a day. The rush of emotions going on inside of me was unbelievable. I was scared, hurt, and heartbroken. It was a steep price to pay, even if it was for our benefit, so we could have a better life together. Within the freedom of America, and away from England and all of Europe in its entirety.

“Eight years. Meet me right here on this dock exactly eight years from now. ” Yes, watching you leave was a steep price to pay.

I slipped the second letter out of its envelope, being cautious with it while I unfolded.

Cathryn, my love,

I hope this letter gets to you soon, as I cannot wait for you to hear this news. I have discovered a little house just like we wanted here in America. It’s a short distance near the ocean, a beach, even. It’s only two floors, and not very big. It has a front porch with a swing, and a backyard filled with trees. It’s the closest to that cabin house that you have described to me as your dream house. I’m far too excited for words to even express. I simply cannot wait to show you it.

Keep me in your heart.

Jack

I felt the wind carry my hair along the side of my shoulder. The waves picked up, crashing louder, and I felt the cool mist spray my ankles and tickle my toes. The bottom of my dress folded and whipped in the air until it subsided to the stillness of before. I returned the letter to safety before the breeze could claim it. I took a deep breath, my eyes fixated on the horizon. The sun was slowly disappearing behind the waves, creating a rush of color across the sky. I breathed out, and looked down at the water beneath my feet. I studied the tiny waves slapping the wooden beams of the dock.

“How am I supposed to live eight full years without you? What will I do to let myself know that everything will be alright?” I could feel the panic in my eyes as I stared straight into yours. Yours were soft, mellow. They did not return my distress.

“Keep me in your heart.” You gently pressed your lips against mine, lingering for as long as was possible. And before I knew it, your ship was all the way on the horizon, leaving me with nothing but the waves and the sky to keep me company.

I closed my eyes. I remember thinking of how many cups I could fill with tears from just that one day. I opened my eyes, wiping away a single tear that had escaped despite my will to keep calm. I looked toward the horizon again as I pulled out the third letter.

My dearest Cathryn,

We’re halfway through, my love. I am sending you this letter while almost at the four year point, and I know time will have passed whence you receive this.

I feel I have progressed by much since the last time I wrote you. However, I have no idea how to put it into words. There are just so many things about America. The country is neverending. I just hope I can make it from coast to coast within the next four years! I’ve seen so much. There have been woods, plains, and even mountains. The mountains, my word. I must show you them some day. They are simply astonishing, I cannot even begin to explain.

With every site that I mutter the word ‘beautiful’ to describe, I think of you. Keep me in your heart, as you are always in mine.

Jack

I was reminded of how that final sentence had made my heart flutter. I slipped the letter back into the envelope slowly and carefully, not taking my eyes off the horizon.

It’s been the extra four years, darling. It’s been eight years as a whole, exactly today. I thought. Once again, I tried my best to remember you, and your ways in general. I tried to remember the pace of your steps when walking on the road, the sound of your breathing when you became too tired, the way your hair felt brushing against my cheek when we watched the waves together.

“Who will keep you safe if I am here?” I asked, before you had to leave.

“You’ve known Michael almost as long as I have. He’ll keep me safe, as a best friend should.” I tried my best to believe you.

I did not want to forget, nor would I ever, but it is all a faint memory. I stared down the horizon, desperately waiting for that boat-shaped silhouette I’ve been dying to see for exactly eight years. I closed my eyes. The fourth letter is something I did not need to read, as I had memorized it completely. The last letter I had received that concerned you and your travels to find a better life for us. I first opened that letter 2 years and 36 days before your return.

To my dearest friend Cathryn,

I am writing you this with the emotions rising from the bottom of my heart. We were so close to coming back home to the dock, so close. But I must bring you the worst of news in its place. What was unknown about the dark side of America has come to my knowledge in the worst possible way. The cities of America are lurking with danger.

We reached a city named Detroit. I’ve heard that it is crawling with killers, but I believed we would be safe if we only stayed a night. But night is the blackest time to be staying in a place crawling with killers. Forgive me for not having this knowledge until it was too late. I’m afraid to say I’ve learned that killers are not merciful. I blame myself. He knew this was going to be a dangerous trip, travelling through cities, sometimes at night, but I still blame myself. Believe me when I say I wish things could have ended differently, but there is nothing I can do now. He did not return.

I’m staying in America for now as planned, and will return when was planned as well. I hope you take this well.

Sincerely, Michael

I remember the agony shooting through me, the pain lifting my soul above my body, the emptiness separating my heart from my chest.

I closed my eyes and let another tear slide down, but opened them in time to watch the sun disappear underneath the sea. I had spent my day waiting for your return, remembering the exact words of the letter that told me you were not going to. But I kept my promise and waited at this dock exactly eight years from your departing day. I have kept you in my heart every day for those eight years. I have kept my end of the promise, and now it ends.

Yes, watching you leave was a steep price to pay.

“Come on, Jolene. Just keep walking fast.” We walked faster, trying to get to the car in time for safety.

“You’re a disgrace!” I heard from the distance, and could faintly hear a hand going back into the mud. She started crying, and I urged her to move faster. I promised that we would be safe if we moved quickly.

We made it to the car, but only barely. A splatter of mud plastered itself against the window of the driver’s seat.

“Daddy, can I sit in your lap until we get home?” She asked me, as I dried her tears the best I could.

“That’s dangerous, honey. Go in the backseat and we’ll be home before you know it.” I gave her a kiss on the forehead, and she left my lap for the backseat, just like I told her. She wasn’t much for rebellion, and did what she was told majority of the time. She was a blessing of a six year old.

We pulled into the driveway, and I noticed that there was no other car, until I remembered the reason for it, I became worried.

“Where’s Steve?” She asked, unbuckling her seatbelt, with the door already half open. I knew she was happy to be home, as any child who went through what we just did would be. It sickened me to see the mud stains on her shoulder. They got her a little bit despite my desperate efforts. Sometimes I feel that it was a bad idea to bring her into our home, into such a close-minded community. I’m just thankful that she has a heart big enough to be oblivious to all the ignorance.

“He has to work late today.” She looked down a little.

“Okay.” I’m just thankful she’s so accepting, and loves us both so much more than we deserve.

She went inside, and I followed after her, but a lot slower. Steve has been working late for the past few days, and it’s hitting both Jolene and I pretty hard. We miss him.

The first thing I did when I got inside was grab the phone and start dialing. As I heard ringing from the other end, I watched as Jolene walked into her room with a coloring book in hand. I had never met such an art-loving child until I met Jolene.

“Hello?” Static muffled his voice, but I was still able to understand.

“Hey babe.” I replied.

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for your call.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Our walk took a little longer than expected.”

“How’d it go?” The question reminded me of the mud streaks on my daughter’s shoulder, as I looked down at the side of my shirt, also stained completely brown.

“Not as planned.” He sighed. He knew that ‘not as planned’ was code for ‘just as we had feared.’

“Is she alright?” He asked, his voice gone soft.

“She’ll be fine.” I answered. I had gone a little soft myself.

“I should get back to work.” A pain shot through my heart. I did not want him to leave.

“When are you coming home tonight?”

“Don’t wait up for me.” I knew that meant that it was going to be really late again. It was just like last night. He didn’t crawl into bed until nearly 2 in the morning. I waited for him to say something else, refusing to reply to his request. He knew I’d disobey it.

“I have to go, darling. I’ll see you tonight.” He broke the silence.

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too, Brian.” The phone clicked to signify his absence. I hung up the phone, and walked down the hall to Jolene’s room. She was laying on her bed coloring, using every color of the rainbow, or so it seemed. I watched for a minute, but then started to walk away.

“Daddy?” I heard her stop me. I took a step back, and looked at her through the doorway.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?” She must have threw her drawing somewhere quick in the split second I wasn’t in the doorway, as she was sitting on her bed all alone now. I walked over to her and sat down next to her.

“Of course. Anything.” I promised her.

“Why were those people throwing mud at us?”

“Well, it’s because they don’t understand us.”

“What’s so hard to understand?”

“Some people have just sunk so deep into normalcy that they don’t even consider accepting a change.” She blinked at me. I confused her, so I simplified my words.

“They don’t accept Steve and I as a couple. They think we aren’t…normal.” It was hard not to stutter over the last word. I hated that word. Normal. A word in the english language meant only to take up space in a dictionary. It has no definition nor does it have meaning, yet it’s there.

“Are you and Steve married, Daddy?” She asked me.

“Yes.”

“Jessica says that marriage has to be between a man and a woman. Why didn’t you marry a girl, daddy?” It was hard not to cry whilst she was asking me these things. Seeing and feeling the rejection and ignorance that they’re teaching her in school is what hurts the most. My biggest fear is that she’ll grow up to be just like them.

“Because I love your daddy with all of my heart, and I know that no woman could ever measure up. With the exception of you, of course.” She smiled, and I returned it.

“Now, go to sleep. It’s getting late.” She smiled, and grabbed a stuffed animal to hug while she retreated under the covers. I turned off the light and left, with only one thing to look forward to; waiting alone on a double bed for Steve to come home.

—-

He didn’t sneak in last night until close to one in the morning. I didn’t have nearly enough energy to say much to him, so we just went to sleep. I greeted the morning by my lonesome, as usual. It’s something I’ve had to get used to as of late. My eyes opened to see a folded paper on my nightstand. It was a note in Steve’s handwriting.

’141 Green Point ave.’ It read. It was an address.

“Jolene.” I was shaking her lightly, but with enough force to wake her. She rolled over and rubbed her eyes drowsily, groaning.

“Daddy?” She mumbled.

“Get dressed. We have to go.”

“Go where?”

“I don’t know.”

—-

My body was tingling with discomfort. I only wanted to leave, nothing else. Jolene gripped my hand tighter and tighter, and my mind rejected Steve for leading us to this place.

It was a Church. People were standing around it, with signs protesting people like us. I don’t know why, but it’s clear that they were unhappy with our presence here. As if I didn’t know that before.

The signs had very hurtful words on them. Lots of them said the same old thing; that all homosexuals would burn in hell. Even with hearing it for a hundredth time, it stung the edges of my heart. Some were different. There were signs that talked about a program through the Church for ‘curing homosexuality’ and ‘saving yourself from the devil by turning straight.’ As if it’s a choice.

There was one sign that caught my eye. It had three words, while the others had paragraphs. It burned a hole in my stomach, and made my eyes water with anger.

‘Save the Child.’ It read. The child, being Jolene.

“There they are!” I heard a voice call as we walked down toward the hoard of signs. They all started yelling at once, one hurtful saying after another. I knelt down to Jolene quickly.

“Go stand over there and wait for Daddy.” I said, mentioning to the big tree along the sidewalk. She nodded with a straight face, showing no emotion. I watched her walk over to the tree, and turn around to stare at me. I turned back to the crowd, and searched for the one with the angriest sign. I picked her out easily. I thin, short-haired blonde woman.

“Save the Child?” I asked.

“Yes. A child needs both a man and a woman for parents in order to grow up as a healthy child. Aren’t you concerned about her well-being and ability to function normally?” It was hard to contain my anger with hearing this, but I was able to. Just barely able to.

“She is growing up just fine with Steve and I. She’s one of the smartest kids in her class.”

“She will burn in hell along with you.” With that ringing in my head, I lost it. I pushed her to the ground, my hands around her neck. As I was about to do something I knew I was going to regret, I remembered the stare of Jolene from the big tree. I didn’t want her Daddy to lose control. I glanced to the tree, but Jolene wasn’t there. I began to panic. I swiftly got to my feet, and darted my eyes around.

“Jolene!” I called, but instead, I attracted the attention of all the other sign-holders. They ran back to me and crowded me with questions and accusations. I struggled to get past them, but there was no use. I could barely move, and the concern for my daughter was suffocating me. What if they had taken her? I became angry at them, even more than I was before.

“Look over there!” The woman I had just threatened yelled. Her finger pointed in a direction that led all the way to the tip of the Church lawn, right at the curb, whereas we had all moved toward the middle. The crowd had stopped hassling me to look, and I saw the same thing they did. It was Jolene, standing there with a piece of paper taped to a popsicle stick. I was able to push through from the crowd’s distractions and run over to her.

“Jolene? Where were you?” She didn’t say a word to me. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t even move. The crowd walked toward us, but I paid no attention to them.

“Jolene, answer me.” I said, with a tone a little more hoarse to get her attention. She gave no response. That’s when I noticed it. The people had crowded near us to notice as well, a more calm look on their faces, with a hint of guilt behind it. I knew my face had the same expression.

The piece of paper and the popsicle stick, two of the three things she had in her pocket at the time, were used to create a sign that changed the people in my closed-minded town, as well as changed me. She did not react to anyone. She did not say word, did not move a muscle. She just stood on the edge of the curb with a sign reading ‘Hope.’

“Cindy, you look beautiful tonight.” He said softly, looking straight into my eyes. I looked down and blushed, trying not to make a fool of myself by smiling too much. I played with his fingers a little more, both my hands laced into his. I looked up again, meeting his sparkling auburn eyes. A gorgeous shade of reddish-brown, with a hint of orangey yellow around the outer edge. Those eyes could put stars to shame, and they constantly stole the air from my lungs.

“Thank you, Tom.” I replied, smiling. He smiled back, and squeezed my hands tighter.

“Happy anniversary, darling.”

“And to you, my dear.” We shared a few moments of just getting lost in each other’s eyes then. That’s when you know you’re truly in love. When you can share minutes of complete silence without having to awkwardly look away or play with your fingertips, and fully enjoy the moment.

“Have I ever told you…” He began. “…how my father proposed to my mother?”

I shook my head no, and he chuckled.

“Well, that’s because he never did.” I laughed too, not quite understanding what he was getting at.

“However, he always regretted it. He would tell me that he wished every single day that he could have pulled out a sparkling silver ring, preferably with a shiny big silver heart straight in the middle, and asked for her hand in marriage on their anniversary day.” He looked at me again, his smile disappearing. He wasn’t upset, just serious. Suddenly, he knelt down on one knee in front of me, and I gasped along with everyone surrounding us in the restaurant. He pulled out this little black box, and opened it to reveal the most beautiful piece of jewelry I had ever laid my eyes on. It was a silver band, with a gorgeous diamond heart straight in the middle of it, just like he had described before.

“He never had the courage to give it to her.” He said. I put my hands over my mouth and disbelief and waited for him to continue, the whole restaurant watching us.

“Cindy, I knew from the first day I met you that you are the most beautiful, intelligent, sweet, and fun girl I would ever meet in my entire life. I watched my father live in regret for years because he had never officially married my mother. I refuse to do the same with you. I’ll do this right, because you deserve the best that there is. Cindy Rose Mackenzie, will you be mine forever as my caring wife, with me as your loving husband?” I smiled, and felt my eyes starting to water. I looked down for a split second, taking all of this in, and quickly looked back up again.

“Yes.” I replied. “Yes, I will marry you because I love you.” He flashed me a very wide smile, and pulled the ring out of its placement in the box. He slowly slid it on my finger, and I got up to kiss him. Everyone in the restaurant clapped once they realized what the answer was, and we shared a moment of perfection right then and there.

We paid the check at the front desk, and left the restaurant for the first time as a happy couple of fiancee’s. It was raining outside, and it could have ruined my beautiful dress that I was saving for this night, but I did not care. We started walking to the car, and then I stopped in the middle of the parking lot. He walked back to face me.

“What’s the matter?” He asked. I grinned.

“I just realized that I’m going to be spending the rest of my life with the man of my dreams.” He returned my grin, and picked me up to spin me around. I laughed more than I ever had while I was spinning. I had never been so happy.

He set me down, and planted a kiss on my lips.

“I love you.” He said, smiling brightly. Right when I was going to reply, his smile instantly disappeared. The color from his face escaped, and his eyes seemed horrified.

“Tom, what’s wrong?” I asked, worried. His hand left my waist and retreated to his chest, which was stained a color much darker than the original of his shirt. I panicked, and he fell backwards onto the blacktop. I saw a man pointing a gun from afar, and I assumed he was the one responsible for my fiancee’s pain. I quickly knelt down to him and grabbed his hand.

“Tom? Tom?! Tom, are you alright?” I asked, frantically. Tears were quickly rolling down my face, and I grabbed his hand tighter and tighter. His eyes started watering, and his mouth was open as he tried to speak.

“C-cindy?” He muttered.

“Yes. Yes, what is it?” I said, completely sobbing.

“I’m c-cold…” He said, and closed his eyes.

“Tom!” I shook his body, but he had no response. I knew that he was gone, but I kept shaking and screaming his name for a minute longer, just in case. Finally, I stopped, and just let my head hang down. I grabbed his hand, which was placed on his chest, and sobbed to the silence of his heart.

—

This was the third morning in a row where I had woken up from that memory in my dreams. It’s been a year since Tom died. As of today, it’s been exactly a year. I woke up with tears streaming down my face, as I did the past two days. I am revisited with thoughts of ‘If only we had gone to a different restaurant. If only we hadn’t gotten in the way of that gun fight between those guys. If only…” I had been haunted by those thoughts by this past entire year.

I caressed the sparkling heart of my ring on my left ring finger, crying. I wiped away the tears, like I always had, and continued on with my daily routine. I forced myself to get out of bed despite my desire, and took a quick shower.

I had the same routine every day since my darling love passed. I would get up every day crying and looking at my ring, I’d go to the coffee shop and read the morning paper, and I’d spend the day reading or working online (I’m a novelist, and I’ve been working on a nonfiction novel about what happened with Tom and I), or sometimes I would go to the gym and exercise.

Today, something broke my routine. My routine that kept me sane, my routine that would keep me from spending every moment mourning the death of Tom, was broken by something today.

I went to the coffee shop with a paper in hand, about to get my daily cup of coffee. I walked up to the counter, already starting to read the front page of the paper, and just said “the usual.”

“Uh, excuse me, miss?” I heard a man’s voice say, aside from the usual woman who served me.

“Oh, uh…I’m sorry. Where’s Angela?”

“She works the afternoon shift now. I just started working here today. My Name’s Chris.” He stuck out his hand. I shook it, but was still a little confused. Normally, when someone is working behind a counter at a coffee shop for their first day, they don’t try to become buddy-buddy with every customer, now do they? Well, I excused him anyway. He seemed like a respectful man. He had blonde hair that was a little over grown, but well kept. A thin blonde mustache matched it, but what caught my attention was the subjects hiding behind those thick-rimmed glasses.

He had bright, auburn eyes. They were a reddish brown color, with a touch of orangey yellow around the edges.

I stared into his eyes without saying a word, and I couldn’t look away. I felt a little faint for a second, and I realized I wasn’t breathing. I noticed that he hadn’t said or done anything either. The man behind my nudged us angrily, so I quickly just walked away and sat at the small table in the back corner. I realized then that I had forgotten to order any coffee, but I sat there and read my paper anyway. A white cup with steam escaping from it found itself to the table in front of my paper, and I saw Chris sit down across from me.

“Hey, umm, I thought I’d give you this. You were here all by your lonesome, and looked like you needed some cheering up.” He said. I stared at him again for a moment, but I quickly looked away, avoiding his eyes.

“Oh, well, thank you, Chris. That’s very thoughtful of you.” I said, a bit emotionless, and went back to reading my paper. I noticed from the corner of my eye that he leaned in a little closer to me.

“You never told me your name.” He said, seeming intrigued. I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Well, I told you my name was Chris, and I even held out my hand for you to hold, but then…I don’t know. I looked into your eyes and I just…I…” He looked down. I was a little taken aback when he said he held out his hand for me to hold, and not for me to shake. I studied him. He looked like he was about to cry, and it seemed like he was avoiding looking at me.

“My name is Cindy.” I said, smiling. I hoped he would cheer up. He smiled, and then he chuckled nervously.

“I’m sorry for seeming so rude. It’s just…” He trailed off, and I noticed a wedding band around his left ring finger. I felt a little bit of a discomforting feeling inside me, like anger or jealousy, whence I saw it.

“It’s just what?” I asked.

“It’s…it’s your eyes. They’re forest green, with a lighter green around the pupil.”

“Yeah…so?”

“My wife had the same eyes.”

“Well, your wife and I have some similarities then.”

“My wife died a year ago. Exactly a year ago today, actually. We were celebrating a year of marriage together, so I took her out to eat, and the place was robbed. She was killed in the crossfire…” His eyes went mellow. I froze, and I felt close to him, even though I had just met him. I placed my hand on top of his left hand. He studied my ring, but I ignored it.

“You still wear the ring as a reminder of her love.”

“Yes, how did you know.”

“I do the same.” I said, and swallowed to keep down all the bad feelings. “Exactly a year ago, my fiance proposed to me as a gift, so to speak, for our second anniversary. We were also at a restaurant, and there was a gun fight going on in the parking lot. He died in my arms after spinning me around in absolute happiness.” He wrapped his hand around mine and looked into my eyes. I looked back, and got lost in his eyes again. I could tell he was getting lost in mine as well.

“You wear the ring so you can feel close to him, even if he can never be here.”

“Yes, I do.”

We spent the rest of the morning opening up to each other completely. We spilled all of the feelings that we both had been bottling up, and we even cried a little together. Before we knew it, it was noon and the morning was over.

“Oh, it’s 12. I…I should get back.” He said, glancing back at the counter. I could see that he was worried, as he just remembered now that he was supposed to be working all morning and not spending time with me.

“I should get home anyway.” I said, and flashed him a smile. He flashed me a smile back.

“Can I walk you outside?”

“That would be nice.” We got up from the table, and he linked his hand with mine. We walked outside the doors of the coffee shop, and he turned to look at me.

“Hey, do you want to meet again for breakfast tomorrow morning?” I smiled at the thought, and nodded.

“I’d like that.” I replied. He smiled, and then he became serious. I did the same. He started to lean in, and I leaned up to follow. He pressed his lips to mine, and for once in a year, I had feeling in my heart aside from emptiness. He pulled away, and looked in my eyes for one last time, then went back inside.

On the entire walk home, I was happy, and I had to stop myself from smiling too much. Chris and our breakfast the next morning was all that was on my mind. Yet, the second I got home, I retreated to my room and cried. I cried and cried until I could not cry anymore. I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, and started writing.

Dear Tom,

I’m so sorry. I’ve betrayed you. I kissed another guy, and I have feelings for him as well, to make it even worse. He asked for plans, a date, tomorrow morning, and I had the nerve to say yes. I am more sorry than I have ever been, and I promise I will go down there and tell him that nothing can happen between us ever again. Please forgive me.

Love always, Cindy

I placed the letter into an envelope, and licked it closed. I scribbled the name I knew best, ever since birth, onto the middle front of the envelope; God.

I placed the letter in my mailbox, and lifted the red flag.

That night, I prayed to God that he would give Tom my letter of apology. I knew that he always watched over me, and I did not want him to remain in heaven as disappointed.

—

The next morning, things changed. I did not have the same memory in my dreams last night, and so I did not wake up crying. I did not feel the urge to caress the ring around my finger either. I was eager to go outside to the mailbox to see if God had taken my letter, but I was saddened to see the red flag up. I placed it down, and opened the mailbox to take back my rejected letter. However, I was surprised to see that this was not my envelope.

In my hand laid a white envelope with an elegant silver design around all the edges. I pulled out a piece of paper from inside it.

My darling Cindy,

You are not forgiven, for you did not do anything wrong. My love for you was the strongest there ever was, and it continues to be that way even when I’m this far away. I am always in your heart, and always looking out for you. A year and one day ago, I promised to love, cherish, and honor you for the rest of eternity.

I’ve sent you an angel to do that for you until I can. Please accept it, and know that I am always here, even if you can’t see me.

Love, Tom.

I held the letter to my heart, and I smiled. I darted my eyes around, and then stopped. I felt a cold spot on my cheek, and much warmth in my heart. For the first time in my life, I closed my eyes, and felt the wind wash over me with bliss.

(Photo credit: http://vi.sualize.us/view/f4219ff8570979b6982c64a6ab16d9c5/)