daily dime, the second: .mityana.

okay…so, as Gabe pointed out, the time-stamp on my blog is wonky.  I posted my blog yesterday just before 8pm.  Go figure.  Today I’m cutting it close with a post at 12:30am.

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His hand rests softly on my knee.  A connection.  Small but necessary.

I can hear his quiet voice amidst the other noises in the room.  Children talking.  Laughing.  Melissa is telling a story.  He’s singing in a language my ears can’t understand, but my heart knows it well. 

His singing is soon drowned out by the other children in the room.  I can’t understand them either, but I understand their smiles and I know their laughter.  The feeling in the room soaks into my being and I can’t help but smile and laugh with them.

Helen is reciting a story to her cousin.  Her small hands flutter about and her face mimics a wide array of emotion in exaggerated form as she relays the details in animated form.

Arthur is sitting near me and he’s talking to Melissa.  He is responding to something in her story.  I listen, but I don’t listen.  He is speaking English, but I’m not putting the words together.  I just listen to the sound of his voice.  Soft, low, and strong.  Such a change from the first day we met.  His words had been unsure and he spoke so softly we rarely understood what he said.

After some time he got the know us, his demeanor began to relax.  His voice remained soft and quiet, but a confidence started to seep into the insecurity until it was gone.

I knew I would miss his voice.   His easy spirit.

My heart grew heavy as I looked around the room filled with beautiful faces.  I tried to burn their images into my memory.  I tried to store this moment in a place I could never forget.  Then I started to divide my heart. 

A little for Helen.  A little for Rose.  A little for Timo.  A little for Jonathan.  A little for Arthur.  A little for Patrik.  A little for Eva.  A little for big Rose.  A litte for Ephriam.

My reverie was broken when I felt something warm and wet on my arm.  I looked down to see Jonathan crying.  He was looking at me with his dark eyes and was speaking to me in a pleading voice.  I couldn’t understand what he was saying, so I looked to Arthur for support.

Arthur leaned in, put his arm around Jonathan and began to speak softly to him.  After they spoke for a few moments, Arthur looked to me and said “He’s sad that you’re leaving.”

I managed a small smile before wrapping Jonathan in my arms.  I held him and we cried together for what seemed both like an eternity and an instant.  He pulled away from me and looked into my eyes.

Placing a small, rough hand on my cheek, he whispered “Don’t go.”

Two small words and my heart was broken.  My heart was mended.  My heart sank.  My heart floated away.

My heart was here.

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You are viewing a Daily Dime story on https://stephonix.wordpress.com
The Daily Dime is a daily writing challenge created by Gabe and Cuyler. View other entries here:
Gabe – http://typinghurts.blogspot.com
Cuyler – http://yarnfactory.blogspot.com
Todd – http://initialdraft.blogspot.com

daily dime, the first: ..words..

The darkness in the car envelopes them like a blanket.  The faint light from the lamp-post down the street bathes their faces with a soft yellow light.  His breathing is the only sound she can hear.  It’s the only sound she can comprehend.   Her own breath is locked in her lungs.  She hasn’t taken a breath since she spoke her last word.  That word, hanging between them.   Weighing down the car.  Quietly breaking them both.  The burning in her chest is almost comforting.

I’m still alive.

I can feel.

Why won’t he speak?

Why won’t he look at me?

She starts to feel light-headed and knows that now she must take a breath.  Must.  Slowly, she lets her lungs fill with air.  Trying desperately to do this quietly because she does’t want him to know that she had stopped breathing.   She wants to assure him that she is still strong.

He is looking at his hands.  They’re clasped tightly and resting on his knee.  Would he ever touch her again?  The thought of never feeling his hand against her cheek, the warmth of his palm on her lower back as he lead her into a room, the callus on his thumb that she would rub whenever they held hands…It was almost too much for her and the burning tears threatened to free themselves from the prison of her eyes and betray her strength.

She needs reassurance from him.  A word.  A hand on hers.   A look.  Just one look…

Look at me please…

I don’t know what you’re thinking, if I can’t see your eyes.

Please…

She continued to plead with him in her mind.  If she begged hard enough, he would look…wouldn’t he.  He knew her better than anyone else in this world.  Why couldn’t he feel her pleading?

Taking a long breath, he looked up from his hands, but not at her.  He bit his lower lip like he did when he was nervous and opened his mouth as if there were words desperately trying to escape.

She stopped breathing.

You are viewing a Daily Dime story on https://stephonix.wordpress.com
The Daily Dime is a daily writing challenge created by Gabe and Cuyler. View other entries here:
Gabe – http://typinghurts.blogspot.com
Cuyler – http://yarnfactory.blogspot.com
Todd – http://initialdraft.blogspot.com