By Jill Terry He Could See How Tired She Was,

The Visit By Jill Terry He could see how tired she was, that day he happened upon her alone in the café; and though he purposely took his thoughts elsewhere, ignoring her completely, he knew from her body language that he’d once known so well, there was something amiss; and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in her life that was causing such fatigue. Years ago he’d gone away from her, removed her completely from the equation of his life; but that didn’t stop him, from on occasion, seeing her shadow pass across his wall. Each time it happened, his perception shifting; re-instilling those truths and beliefs he’d discovered while in the presence of her; a presence he once believed was easy to shake, though part of him secretly yearned to hold onto. While his real life was constantly in the forefront of his thinking, somewhere in the back of his mind lingered the life they had known; that driving light, filled with her laughter, dimmed by her cries, exploding with their passion; bringing something magical to his world of sameness. His ability to sense her presence from miles away, clouding his memory on sun-dappled days; the one constant, through the years that had remained; though he still wasn’t sure, if what he was feeling was real; or simply his imagination running wild, that caused him to linger, night after endless night. A vigil in the darkness, waiting for and willing her to come. The rains came, followed by raging thunder and a fantastical lightening show, as he sat in the corner of the darkened room; waiting, watching, hoping; that she would not disappoint. He fell asleep in the chair somewhere around three, waking suddenly as a cool breeze, brushed gently across his flesh. He opened his eyes and watched in silent fascination; as the misty shadow floated gracefully across the room; then as if willing it to happen, she slowly began to materialize. She was wild-eyed in her misery, carrying the same tired and worn out expression he’d seen a few days before, etched across her beautiful face. He knew right then that he had called her to him; that she never would have come on her own. His heart overflowing, with the sudden feeling of guilt; for the pain he had caused, because of what together they had done. He sat up a little straighter, unconsciously clinging to the arms of the chair; gathering courage, he spoke out to her. “I don’t blame you. I know you think I do; but I don’t. I never did.”

She turned slowly, casting her gaze upon him; the veil of her so thin, that he could see right through it. In the blink of an eye, the span of a breath, she was upon him; face-to-face, as they once comfortably lay. She hovered in front of him, weightless; though he could feel her pressing down on him; searching his face, seeking truth in his eyes; as a single tear, sparkling like a jewel, dripped from hers; landing as a raindrop, upon his naked thigh. He wanted to tell her that he missed her; that he worried and wondered of her constantly. That their time spent together had not been in vain; that a part of her, in his heart, would always remain. And while the words he still could not muster, the one thing she never ran dry of; the truth she saw clearly, in his green aging eyes. ©2009 Jill Terry