It was not a long conversation, for minds had already been made up. There was a boat leaving, and he wanted her to come with him.

He stressed there was no time to waste, that he needed to leave as much as he needed her. They could get married he said, when they got there, start a life together; she had never been a risk taker. Her parents begged her not to go, fearing the journey as much as the destination, and instead of following her heart she listened. The boat left on a beautiful day at noon, and she thought to herself how unfit this kind of weather was for what was about to occur. She did not cry, my grandmother, because she thought it would make her appear weak. She did not say very much as the love of her life boarded a boat. She did not say much as he told her he hoped she would join him some day. She did not say anything when he said goodbye.  Perhaps she was angry, perhaps she had felt abandoned, but none of it mattered as the final whistle blew and she was forced to step off of the platform. As the boat became smaller in the distance, she watched, covering it with her finger as it became a speck in the distance. The warm breeze kissed her face, and she marveled at how little the world changes around you when everything seems to be falling apart. She never forgot about him, not for one day, it’s how I know about him at all. There is such a complete sadness; she used to say, when you can pinpoint exactly where your life could have changed, and exactly where you refused to let it.

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A Short Conversation is a collection of stories, thoughts, and general musing. I like to write like I'm slamming a door; loudly, and with purpose.

25 Comment on “Leaving

  1. Pingback: The Thinking « Firestorm

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