Raspberries

The snowflakes caught in her eyelashes.  They seemed to make her eyes look sunken.  When had she become so frail?
Her spindly arms reached out for my own, and when I took her hand I felt how dappled her skin felt.
How long had it been?
Years.  Many years.
I remember running in her backyard.  I use that term loosely.  She had this little cottage-- very homey.  Quilts everywhere.  Cats.  And the smell... of contentment.  It was a well lived in home.
But the home itself was not the cottage, it was the garden-- or yard.
Filled with fresh strawberries, watermelon, apple trees, vegetables such as cucumbers, lettuce, turnips, onions.  It was endless.  But there was one favourite. The raspberries.
She would come out with us, and we would pick basket fulls.  Eat them while we were picking.  Then we would make jams with some of it, but eat most of them with a bit of cream.
If there is a heaven, this would be my own.  She was so quiet but soulful.  She always seemed to look old.  I know that sounds bad, but what I mean is she looked old at sixty and she looked old at seventy.  She was just ageing not so... gracefully.
She started having problems as we grew.  Harder to walk.  Harder to think.  Harder to remember.
For years... I had not seen her.
I heard stories of how racist she was.  How she had a foul mouth.  But every time I spoke to her, or listened to her, it was like honey.
Sweet, sincere.
My mum started telling me she was ill.  Every time she was mentioned I thought I was going to be told she had passed.
This went on for a few years.
She moved in with my grandma.  She was cared for.  But she slowly got worse.  See, when people lose their memory they can become easily frightened or confused.
She would get severely confused and that came with severe anger.
She was moved to a home.
I visited her.
I visited her five times.
The first time I remember seeing her with tears in my eyes.  She didn't say my name once.  I brought up my brother but she just nodded and smiled.  I knew she didn't know.
The second time we walked around.  She was calling me my brother's name.
The third time was short.  She was severely confused.  I barely got to tell her I loved her.
The fourth time she was quite tired.  She lay in bed while I read.
The fifth time, I walked in, knowing this would be the last time I visited.  I didn't want to feel heartbroken every time I left.  I didn't want to see her anymore.
I walked into the room and her eyes brightened as she exclaimed my name clearly, hugged me, and told me she loved me so much.  How much I had grown.  How beautiful I was.  She asked how my brother was, and we were able to speak.  I saw her drifting away, so I told her I loved her and we embraced.  Then I walked back to the car with my mum and as she drove I felt cold tears fall from my face in silence.
A month or so passed.
So had she.
I didn't cry.
I haven't cried yet.
Even writing it, I feel them in the back of my eyes.
I don't feel heartless-- I did at first.
But, maybe I am not crying because she is willing me not to.
Because we are still picking raspberries.
Because I'm still a five year old little girl, naive with what is to come and what has happened.
Because the snowflakes that fell in her eyes were not in fact snow, but ashes from the fires we had.
Because the snowflakes were just my imagination, just like many other day dreams have been.
And it is okay if you don't understand what I am talking about, because I do.
I still feel her soft skin.
I see her bright blue veins.
I see how spindly she is.
I see how loving she was.
I see red.
I see raspberries.

Yours Truly, Jenny

I adjusted my jacket and moved the rear-viewing mirror to check my hair. My hands smoothed down the brown spikes and I stared at my light blue eyes for a moment.  With nerves in my stomach I cleared my throat and pushed open my car door.  

I looked at the home in front of me and began feeling giddy.  I had been abroad for the army for about six months.  I told Jenny I'd be home withing seven, so she wouldn't be expecting me.  

I felt my dopey smile fill my face and I adjusted my jacket once more before bounding up the stairs to our home.  

I felt the small box in my pocket and I closed my hand around it gently.  

With a deep inhale, I knocked on the door once.  Twice.  Two more times.  How many times was too much?  I'm not hearing anything, maybe another knock--

The door opened a crack, and I was met with a familiar pair of brown eyes.  Her hair was a lot shorter than it was; no longer falling behind her.  It framed her face gracefully.  

"Danny?"  The shock from her face drained, and I realized I was gripping the box now.  

"Hey Jenny."  My smile widened. 

"Danny, I--"  She half-laughed and fell into my arms, "I thought you weren't coming home for another month."  

I inhaled the soft lilac that coated her and squeezed her against me.  

"I wanted to surprise you, babe."  I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her arm length away to take her in. "You're so beautiful.  Oh my God, you're so beautiful."  I hugged her again.

She motioned me inside, "Come in, come in, oh you must be so tired."  Jenny wiped at her eyes and tugged me into our humble abode.  

Upon entering, I noticed everything was still the same.  The living room still had the old white leather couch, light wood coffee table and matching side tables.  The pictures above the fireplace were at the same angles and it felt the same.  It just felt the same.  Like home. 

That's when I noticed something different. 

"Hey, hon, where's--"  There was a excited yap and in a fluid motion a black blur whirled around the corner and into  my arms, "Luna!" The black lab nuzzled under my arms and sniffed me for what felt like forever, but that dog, my god, was the sweetest thing.  I played with her, letting her get out her whining and loving barks.  Finally she spun in my lap (with difficulty because she doesn't realize that she's not a puppy anymore.  In fact she's one of the largest dogs I've met, but she acts like a cat.  It really is the cutest thing.)  and rested her head on the ground. 

"Danny, when you left she got so sad.  She would stare out the window and just cry,"  Said Jenny as she leaned down to rub Luna's head.  "I'm surprised she didn't come out sooner, but she was sleeping.  So I think she assumed the door was just some random person."

I laughed, "What, you have a lot of random people coming over lately?"  

She squinted, "Just Lina and Jeff with their boys."  Her eyes widened, "They're expecting another!  Lina said she hopes it's a girl because all that testosterone is just consuming her femme fatale, also, my mother wanted to know when would be a good time to visit her and dad-- when you came back, but we don't have to decide anything right now as that would be-"

"Overwhelming?"  I interrupted while laughing.

She grew bashful and kissed my forehead, "Sorry, babe.  I know you just came home.  There's just so much to tell you and I missed you so much.  You got my letters, right?"

I nodded and reached for Jenny's hand, "I got them, read them, and held onto them every time I went out on duty."

She smiled with tears in her eyes. "Good."  Something caught her eye and her smile faltered, "Hon, why did you come back early?"

Luna turned on my lap onto her back, exposing her tummy.  I rubbed it as I explained, "I got shot on duty.  Went clean through my calf.  Hurt like a bitch- excuse me, it hurt a lot."  I corrected after her look of horror. 

"I don't care about you swearing, Daniel, I care about whether or not you're okay.  What-- how?  Are you okay?"  

I nodded, "I'm fine.  I was shocked when it happened and didn't realize it had happened because of the adrenaline state I was in.  A buddy stopped me and called in help.  I had to calm him down in order to tell me what was up."  I laughed again, but grew solemn, "He ah, he died while covering my ground when I was in emergency care.  Grenade."  My throat grew thick. 

"Danny... oh my god, I'm so sorry."  She pulled me against her, "I am so sorry."  I put my hand on her cheek and looked at her eyes. 

"It's okay.  I'm okay.  They discharged me and I am going to be looking for a therapist so I don't develop PTSD, or if I do have it then I can work through it."  I kissed her.  "I missed you so fucking much."  She laughed.

"Language, Danny."  We both sat there, hugging, kissing, talking, laughing, and every once in a while I ended up crying.  Or she would.  I told her stories about my travels and she told me about what had happened here.  

And we didn't notice how late it was until we saw the sun peeking through the window.  

We were exhausted physically, but mentally we were wired.  

So we went for a walk by the park.  See, it had this huge hill that let you watch both the sunrises and sunsets.  

And when the sun was high enough to bring tears to her eyes I went on one knee and pull out the tiny box. 

And when I opened it she cried. 

And nodded really aggressively. 

Like, I thought her head would topple off. 

And I put the small little ring on her fourth finger.  

And we fell asleep watching the sunrise. 

My Star

A year ago, I found you at the store
watching your little world explode out of the water.
Because I chose you, to start a life for
and now, I can only apologize.
For, I wish I had made your life a little better
rather than sticking you in a tank.
Oh, my little Luce.
People laughed at me for naming you such a thing.
"Lucifer, the angel fish."
For-- it was irony, you see.
Because Lucifer means 'Star'.
As in the stars in the sky
that reflect off the ocean, lakes and rivers.
Star is a beautiful twinkle that floods the milky way
and brings a sense of awe through even the most intelligent people.
You were a star that stood out to me
through your little glass captor.
You made it so far, Luce.
Such a beautiful name
for such a beautiful fish.
It was an honor to sing to you,
and thank you for listening to me play my instruments.
Thank you for letting me talk to you
and thank you for being there for me and your tank
in times of need.
I wish I could do more.
I'm sorry I couldn't do more.