300 Words: Goodbye


Another old 300 Words from class...

            There is one thing she has to say today and she has never wanted to say anything less than she wants to say this. Her head feels blissfully content resting against his chest. Her arms embrace him loosely as he holds on tight enough for the both of them. The warm damp air sends quick gusts of wind that momentarily cools them and causes the hem of her blue dress to dance.  As she closes her eyes and inhales his familiar scent one of  the tears she had been holding in for so long , seeps out and lands on his deep blue uniform.
            She was a sophomore in high school and she was in love much earlier than she had expected to be. They were serious and things were good, but as his graduation date grew closer so did the questions about next year. He considered a college a few states away and though she was mature for her age, this was a hard concept to grasp. However, she left every decision up to him and asked him not to consider her in his  initial deliberations. As hard as a long distance high school/college relationship sounded, she had no idea what he chose would be the most difficult situation she would ever be placed in.
            After their short summer of adventures and love ended he set off for boot camp. They hadn’t spend more than a weekend apart and there he went for three torturous months with no contact. With only a brief reunion at home he was gone again for more training. With each send-off more and more difficult she was growing weary of her new responsibility feeling far too young to be going through these sorts of things.  However, these practices gave her no assistance in her upcoming goodbye.

            She avoids words as she plays with one of his gold buttons and listens to him chat with his mother and younger sister.  The bus slowly fills up and the crowd begins to dwindle. She doesn’t let go of him. The wind blows sending the palm trees swirling in the heat and gives him some sort of signal because he then whispers, “it’s time.” She stands back and dusts off her blue dress as she watches the tears and hugs flow between a mother, son, and sister. Then he steadily walks towards her she gets anxious, she doesn’t know what to say. She has no idea what to say knowing this could be the last time she sees him. She has no words when he takes her into that perfect embrace and kisses her forehead. He is waiting. She needs to say something.  She isn’t ready. He says, “I love you.”
            She gives her only feasible reply, “I’m not ready.” 
            “Me either,” he answers.

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[par-uh-shoot] noun, verb, -chut·ed, -chut·ing.
a folding, umbrellalike, fabric device for allowing a person, to float down safely through the air from a great height.

“But it’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I’m seeing it all at once and it’s too much. My heart fills up like a balloon that’s about to burst. And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life.” — American Beauty