The Wind-Opened Doors
The cold air blew through me chilling every inch of my bones and skin.
As if I were naked. Exposed.
I walked alone, past the crowds of chattering teenagers. I wasn’t lonely though.I thought of the days mediocre events with a little smile. Soon these days would be gone and I was unsure of how to feel. I kept walking, each step feeling harder than the one before. My feet were getting heavy and the wind kept blowing.
I reached the top of the hill and I came to a slow stop.
A car passed by, but I knew what I had seen across the street.
No. It couldn’t be for my grandfather had died. It just wasn’t him.
"Move it," someone muttered past me and a group of boys, rushed past me, a weird limp in their walk. I held my backpack straps strong, for sheer comfort.
He was still standing there.A basket in hand and a small white flower in the other. He looked as if he were going on a date. He was staring right at me.
I looked around and no one seemed to take notice of him. I reached him, crinkles around his eyes forming, but I noticed his facial features kept shifting. Which grandfather was it? He held out his hand with the white flower and handed it to me. I courteously accepted it, coming to the assumption that I was dreaming now. I was probably still in eight period government class just in a deep slumber.
He then turned and started walking. I followed behind.
He led me to a park which was completely deserted thanks to the winter weather. He set down the picnic basket and prepared a picnic which I knew would turn out disastrous. It was just going to blow away, of course. I blinked. Everything changed.
I blinked again in confusion.
The park was bathed in warm sunlight. There was my grandfather waiting for me sitting on the picnic blanket.
The sun felt good against my skin. I was clothed again. Full. Complete. It had come full circle.
I walked towards him and ate lunch.