It seems like forever ago

"If you want me, I'll wait for you."

The grass is soft under my hands. It reminds me of college, of breaks between classes and looking for that perfect spot to spend it. The grass always seemed like a disappointment once you actually sat down, never as green or even as it looked from afar. Not here though, in this place it is always exactly what you expect it to be. The sky is always a powder blue, it's never too hot and never cold, and it only ever rains in that cleansing way that people welcome after warm summer afternoons.

The scent of strawberries and honey lingers during the day, a sweet counterpart to the visits of others. Sometimes they bring me food; sometimes they merely offer some company. We instinctively know each other, it's just enough to exist in a contented silence. Sometimes they invite me somewhere; regardless of the fact that I always resolutely refuse to move. They are whole, they are content, and while they don't understand my fixation, they never stop trying. At night, the smell of cinnamon and satin permeates everything. I dream of smooth skin under my fingertips and the breath of soft laughter against my ear.

Some days I find myself in the company of others, merely watching the horizon. No one says a word. People first appear as tiny specks against the sky, and our eyes stay glued to their forms as they approach. Everyone has to come this way, across the field of grass and past the twin oaks where I keep sentry. There is always someone there to greet them, and accompany them into the city beyond the trees. It's similar to how you would have been greeted at the airport, except instead of a man with a cardboard sign there is just this overwhelming feeling of kinship that identifies you. The minute you appear against that sky, you know you are meant to be here and you are content. You meet your loved ones in the city, and they smile and take your hand. Though they never missed you while you weren't here, now that you are it's as if you were never separated at all. That's the theory, though it didn't quite work out that way for me. I was hesitant to follow my greeter, unwilling to turn cross into the city and lose sight of that horizon. I didn't go.

Time has no meaning in this place; days pass unnoticed and turn into nights unmarked. I have no clear sense of how long I have been here. It's congruent. I am content in my own way, to sit here watching the comings and goings of others. I don't have any pressing concerns, I don't feel the need for anything. All that matters is keeping the vigil. Yet sometimes I am overwhelmed by this inexplicable terror that comes from nowhere, this feeling that I will forget. That one day I will merely heed the call of the city and wander off. Those are the days I carve messages into the tree trunks, hoping to remind myself that there is a point, that there is something I have to remember. Remember. Remember! The bark is always perfectly unscarred again the next day. The cycle starts again.

The day it happens is just like every other day before it, and no doubt every day afterwards. The early morning sun has barely started warming the ground and there's still dew drops clinging to the blades of grass. A figure appears against the horizon, but it's far too early for this, no one else is around yet. He comes closer, and there's something in the way he moves. Something...and I know. I just know. I have been sitting for who knows how long but I still run like the day I first arrived. We meet halfway across the field, I'm not even breathless and he looks exactly the same. He smiles and reaches for me. The weight lifts and I'm free, pushing up and breaking for air.
"I waited for you," I say softly, his arms tightening around me.
"Just like you promised."

And in the darkest night
If my memory serves me right
I'll never turn back time

Music: Whatsername - Green Day
Mood: Sleepy