Happy Ever After |
by Kenya Samuel |
Cruising down Highway 1, the lights of the city reflected brightly off the window shield. The faint sound of music was playing dimly in the background, but an even better melody was playing in my head. A nostalgic tune, a tune that caused me to keep driving. Driving at 70 mph, I really felt like I was driving at 25mph. A smile crept on my face as I switched gears and sped up in my lane. Living in California for over 10 years, was now finally beginning to feel like home. I looked to my passenger side and my eyes lit up as I examined her legs perched up on the dashboard. Shoes off, toes the color of a beautiful sunset that matched the scenario the world was crafting from the outside. My eyes lingered there for a moment. Took in the structure of her legs, still big, but perfectly toned. Never was like that in the past. She always had beautiful feet, always manicured. I looked up to see her nose sink in slightly. And the corners of her mouth twitched upright. An expression that displayed both discomfort and amusement. She knew I was watching her. I laughed. She still gets uncomfortable when I stare at her. She looks back to the window and goes back into a trance, the same zone since I picked her up recently from LAX. I keep hearing her phone vibrate against her leg. Keep wondering who is texting her. I still can’t read her, even though her eyes welcome me deep into the depths of her soul. She makes me feel like a kid again. The kid reading science fiction books faithfully, the kid playing with his childhood puppy, the same kid who found a way to peace even though he lived and experience hardships. The meaning of sacrifice at an early age. I wish I could embellish this moment. Savor it and look back, being able to relive it whenever and wherever. She makes me feel an indescribable feeling, almost a feeling greater than happiness. Like I fit somewhere in this world. Belonged. Needed like I needed her. I look to my left hand on the steering wheel, and immediately look to hers. See if she still wears hers. Her hand is gripped firmly above her knee. We both wear simple bands; mine a simple silver band while hers is beautifully structured with little diamonds protecting the biggest diamond. Committed in an admirable, everlasting, righteous way. Ours souls forever linked. A bond permanently formed around each other’s hearts. She knew as well as I knew that I was hers and she was mines. In a past lifetime, and now in this lifetime. But funny how reality creeps slowly back to surface and brings you the cold realization that forever doesn’t last the way you promised each other it would. Because in truth, we weren’t married to each other. We both had families of our own. In too deep, too late to turn back I grabbed her hand and she held on. |