Perfect
It’s a perfect day. There’s not a cloud in the sky, so it is a sea of peaceful blue. The sun shines down, a halo in the sky that’s smiling down on us. The sound of ocean waves crashing onto the beach provides a soundtrack for this beautiful summer day. Children giggling as they play on the beach act as the chorus to that music. They haven’t a care in the world. Their most dire dilemmas revolve around the construction of their sand castles or the deliberation of the next game to play. A plane engine hums in the sky as it carries a sign welcoming us to Ocean City, Maryland. I breathe in, smelling the salty ocean and the fried food stands that line the beach. I take all of this in as I walk down the brown wood panelled boardwalk, my ocean blue flip flops rhythmically slapping between my heel and the ground. I feel her warm, soft hand clasped in mine and a wave of contentment rolls through me, simultaneously lifting me up and keeping me grounded. It’s been that way for over two years now. I look at her, the most beautiful girl in the world, and she returns my glance. She lovingly smiles at me, filling me with warmth, and I helplessly smile back. That one look, that one smile, is the icing on the cake. It really is a perfect day. We’re kids in love. Nothing could ever ruin it and nothing could ever taint the sanctity of this memory.
That night, we’re sitting on the massive, well-kept couch, watching a movie. I don’t care what movie it is, and I never do, as long as I get to hold her. Every time I do, the same thought runs through my mind: “we fit together like two puzzle pieces.” As we sit there, I study her, trying to commit every detail to memory despite knowing that I’ll fail. Her eyes reflect the action of the movie on the TV. (Tonight, I think it’s Unbroken.) Her long blonde hair flows like a river down to her shoulders. She’s wearing sweatpants, like she usually does at the end of the day, and this time, it’s her pair covered with the Wonder Woman logo. Every time I see that, I smile because she is my personal Wonder Woman. ( A lame joke I retell to her frequently.) I look at her, Mikayla, and another recurring thought pops in my head: “Mikayla, my Kayla.” She’s really mine, and I am hers. I know we’re going to be together forever. It’s become an unquestionable fact of my life. Nothing could ever shake that certainty.
As the movie plays, the full moon shines into the living room of this rented vacation house. The pale light gleams through the glass door that’s crisscrossed with white painted wood. The moon gives the living room its only light tonight, as the other lamps are off. The moonlight reflects off of the room’s walls and its furniture, which are all white. I’m sitting in a perfect room, in a perfect house, utterly filled with this perfect love for my girlfriend. I wish time would stop ticking away so I could cherish this moment longer. I wish time would do just that one favor for me so this moment would never end. It really is a perfect day.
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Relics
The overhead light, as white as the moon, watches over us. It protects us, keeps this moment frozen in time, at least for a few minutes. Blood red
Rose petals, full of life, lay haphazardly around my room, scattered around in a mad, fervent passion.
Love notes, too, lie around the room, the corners worn with the age
Of countless readings. A house of cards,
Built with birthday cards and anniversary cards from the past, stands unshakable,
Its foundation built upon “I love you” and “we’ll be together forever.”
The overhead light reflects off of the pendant of a silver
Necklace. It is two hearts intertwined. It radiates love, as the light
Shines off of its silver surface. The glossy smooth, black leather couch, carefully
Polished, sits against a wall. It has hosted countless hours
Of Glee and Grey’s Anatomy,
Where we sat, connected like two puzzle
Pieces. The bed lies against the wall, like a monument.
Its sheets, the color of your incandescent smile,
are wrinkled.
Car keys sit useless on the nightstand. They tell us
We can go wherever we want to, but we don’t want to go
Anywhere. We want, we need to stay
Here.
But now the overhead light is dead.
The bulb is out, the light is gone.
The rose petals lay withered, lifeless.
The love notes have been burned. Their cool ashes
Sit in the trash. The silver necklace sits on those ruins
Like a throne. The ash has smothered and dulled
its once brilliant shine. The house of cards has collapsed,
Its foundation has caved in on itself. The couch, its leather cracked
And ripped, sits against the wall, abandoned.
The bed sits forsaken,
Bare, shoved into the furthest corner of the room.
Laying on it now feels like a bed of nails.
I hold the car keys in my hand.
They once offered a highway of endless
Possibilities. They still tell me I can go wherever I
Want to. But now, it’s a look into the abyss,
Where I drive lost, alone,
Wandering like a stray.
I don’t want to leave
Or go anywhere.
I just want to stay
Here,
but in a time that is gone.
