Days of Sun

I'm standing here. I'm holding my chin and rubbing my eyes.

I'm crying. Tears.

She stands one foot and a few inches behind me, to my left. She's crying, too. Tears, I think. Not sure, though.

It's me, and it's her, and it's as if we are strangers to one another. The fact that we rode here to the cemetery together doesn't change that. Nor does the fact that we will ride away together and get out at the same spot and that I'll be the one chopping up a salad to go with the fish she's marinating for dinner. None of it changes anything.

The girl in front of me is standing next to an older version of herself, and her hand slowly reaches up to rub the woman's back. Her mother leans in and tucks her head into the curve of her daughter's shoulder. Sobbing, holding, clinging to one another.

And I sob, and I sob, and I hold my head in my hands, and I spot my cousin whom I haven't seen in months, and collapse into her arms.

I hate it. I hate this. I hate that I'm here.

I hate that we aren't.

Sun day.

Too many words to describe something that doesn't even exist. ~