Turning the Page

Flickr Photo Download: leaf + snow

It’s been almost a year now.
The spring has turned ’round to winter.
I walked the beach last weekend,
That strip of sand where the wild ponies love to run.
I remembered our winter walks on the beach,
The way you would tip your chin up and stride into the wind,
Strong and bold, while I shivered and hunched down in my jacket.
A cold wind slapped at me, but this time I lifted my head,
Unzipped my jacket, ran into its sting, savored the life you gave me.

It’s been almost a year now.
It was snowing the night you left.
I stood outside watching it swirl in silent spirals
and thought of a sheet settling over you.
Snow seeped from an ashen sky the day we buried you.
I couldn’t look at you tucked in that clay jar,
propped on a drape of artificial grass,
while they counted down our allotted time to grieve.
I fixed my eyes on the brick wall you’d climb,
sneaking in after hours to bring flowers to mother.

It’s been almost a year now.
Spring peepers gave a concert the week after that goodbye.
The ground turned soft from new rain.
My shovel slid into the earth
As I pried up a dead cedar, tossed it aside,
And set a young rhododendron in its place.
I remembered all the bushes we planted together.
May this one fare better.

It’s been almost a year now
And I sat numb through too much of it.
The grass greened and went back to brown.
Two feet of snow buried your rhododendron.
The page is turning and I can’t stop it. I can’t put it back.
It’s opening on a new chapter in my life —
The first year without you in it.

The prompt for this Sunday Scribblings is New Leaf. See what other Sunday Scribblers wrote here.