There Is A Place.

 

There is a place I want to see before I die.  My friends heard this and said, ‘We’ll take you there!’  But it’s been a long time since they said that.  I wonder where they are…they haven’t come for a long time.

And I miss them.

My heart is slowing, and it’s hard for me to sleep these days, but still I hope to see that place.  I want to touch the sand again.  I want to feel the sadness and happiness I felt at that one time.  Will I ever see it?

I wonder if they’ll come today?

I’m fading.  It’s so hard to move my limbs.  I can’t even open my eyes to see the sunlight.  I can’t see the way it glints off the window like fairy dust sprinkled at my seventh birthday.

We were all meant to be together, finish high school together, go to uni together, live our dreams together.  I want to say sorry, sorry for not fulfilling my promise, sorry for leaving.  I want to tell them that.  When I see them…but they haven’t come for a long time… Maybe I shouldn’t.

But I want to see them one more time.  I don’t want to go.

‘Sh, she’s sleeping!’  I hear this whisper, but I’m so tired.  Arms wrap around me, lift me, and carry me.  I want to say, let me go.  I want to say, let me die.  But they just hold me, strong and tight.  They don’t want to let me go.

There are more whispers.  Of arguments, just like the old times.  Somehow I imagine that they are the voices of my friends.  Maybe I’m still in the hospital, yet this swaying makes me think otherwise.  I feel safe.  If I die here, resting by this warm body, I think I shall be happy.

I smile, and a hand touches my cheek.  I feel something wet, and I try to brush it away, but I’m too weak.  I’m carried again, my arms around the neck of my carrier and my head resting on the shoulder.  I know this body.  I know this person.

Then the movement stops.  And there are more warm bodies pressed around me as they lower me.  They hands are gentle against my frailness.  I’ll never let go of this body.  I’ll never let go of these hands.

And then those strong arms wrap around me, one hand takes my hand and I feel the ground.  It’s soft…like sand.

‘Open your eyes,’ he whispers in my ear, ‘Open them once more, for us.’

And I open them, somehow I’m crying.  Through my tears, I see that one place.  I am here with my friends around me, each hand resting on my shoulder or my arm, always connected, always together.  I am with the ones I love and I am both happy and sad.  And they are like me, we are one, friends forever, a bond that will never be separated even by death.  Seeing their tears, I say, ‘Thank you…’

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