I Spoke to the Sun and the Clouds Kissed Me

Yesterday, I sat outside watching pleasure boats unzipping wakes as they sped over the silver-blue surface of Hauser Lake.  I sat there for several minutes, thinking about all those people that, for one reason or another, have disappeared from my life.  Hundreds of them.  Perhaps thousands.  Some have fully departed.  Others merely went away on career.  Couples divorced and ejected themselves.  A few simply dissolved when I looked away.

I would take most of these people back.

Surely I would.

For a few, I would sacrifice greatly if given that they would return again.

At some point rainclouds began grasping at the sun and splayed shadows overtop the lake.  Looking up, I spoke to the sun.  I don’t recall the exact words I used now, but I told the sun that I knew others would be departing from my life, from this life.  “But you,” I concluded, “you always circle right around and come back again.  For that, I am most grateful.”

Almost immediately, cool drops of rain began to strike my shoulders and face.  The raindrops felt like icy kisses.

I remained there until soaking wet.

--Mitchell Hegman