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Tuoi Sole


 

You never notice the sun and yet it is always there for you.

Must this feeling be so bright, so shining full of warmth and life, that it hangs in the sky, draped across the horizon, invisible?

You know its there.

Its always there.

When you cry yourself to sleep, its there, dipping down to where the sky meets the earth

. . . to be closer to you.

The sun can never touch you, it can only gaze longingly at you from its prison in the heavens.

It falls, but faithfully climbs its heavens again to see you.

The sun is your thread you cling to when you feel there is no more reason to live.

Its rays of burning light remind you that there is always a tomorrow.

It teaches you that once something hits rock bottom, there is only one way for it to go.

Up.


I do not want to be your sun.

Do you remember times like this?


 Furbees?
Those little electronic dogs that lit up to the sound of your music?
Betty Spagettis?
Nights at the church primary with snacks and little kids while your mom does who-knows-what?
Driving up to see the Jelly Belly factory?
When Disneyland seemed so big?
Little pastel candis with white sprinkles and shaped like Hersey's kisses?
Lizzy Mcguire?
Live action Disney movies like the teenage mermaid boy or the leprechaun kid?
Painting your nails funky colors and sparkly stickers?
Playing with your toys Christmas morning?
Naptime?
Mixing milk in your water glass?
Getting ribbons in your newly cut hair?
Blowing chocolate-milk bubbles?

 They had been sitting in the foyer for hours, little hands flipping through pages and pages of old photographs. A couple watched from the door frame, small sad smiles resting on their faces. 

Every year on the first of the month of Augustus, the two sat there, heads hunched and eyes pouring over the hundreds and hundreds of smiles and happiness.  They would sit until the sun settled so much that copper light lay in slanted beams across their backs. 

That was where they were now, photo-albums in laps. Since the entirety of their walking lives. 

It was late that summer evening, perhaps a little later than usual. The two at the edge of the room looked at each other. Would it be alright to end the search now? The brothers would surely cry, but was it too late now?

 A pair of auburn heads popped up from behind the loveseat. They rose, brushing themselves off and sauntering across the floor. Their grim little faces and tearful little eyes lead the way. The couple stepped back silently and watched them go.

Feet slipped into sandals and away they went. In the burnt sky, the sun sagged low, whispering sadly to the earth below. Dark leaves on trees waved softly to the little boys as they passed below. 

They walked down and around for a ways, through the winding cobblestone roads. They stopped. They looked despairingly up at the scarlet post box. Tiny little hands folded a sloppily-written note inside an envelope with the photograph.

An envelope marked for Heaven.

 
Her laugh broke the silence.

It had been so long since she had been around him, it was simply funny. They fought together, explored together, learned together. They used to sit side by side underneath the merciful shade of trees. Conversations never dulled, because they had nothing to be uncomfortable about. War, politics, conflicting religions, those parts their parents told them never to let anyone touch. Anything went.

Now. . . she was married to a man she still barely knew, and her childhood playmate was no longer innocent. War torn and defeated he came to her, bright eyes never looking at her face. She smiled and touched his pale colour-less cheek. She was a woman now, no longer a vicious little child who could outrun any challenger, outride the wind, out-stand bitter emotions.

War had weakened them, politics had separated them, conflicting religions had kept them away, and those parts had been touched. So she laughed. She laughed at the world, how strange it was. How incredible, to bring two that were bound by land and cut by steel together at last. The years had stretched into numbness, she had lost count a while ago. Now, she could see him, touch him. Ever since she was a little tyke, she had always felt familiar around him, like she could be unrestrained from frivolous properties that being of the "weaker" sex meant. 

So she laughed, to remind herself of the days when the only cares in the world was if the swimming hole would be too cold to dive into. When he smiled back at her, the tired lines around his eyes crinkling from exhausted relief, she took his other cheek in her other palm and kissed him. 

Just to see if she could. Because in the end, all she wanted was to be herself.

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 It was the smell of the fresh air he missed the most. The soft breeze carrying different scents to him from the high mountains or the gentle creeks. Refreshing. To sit in a train for the past few hours with an open laptop on his knees and no visibly openable windows was painful. He fidgeted, rubbing the back of his ankle with a socked toe and bringing his water bottle to his lips. He slid his foot back in its shoe and took a sip. At least he had something that reminded him of home. Something very small and unnoticeable as clear plastic can be, but it was familiar nonetheless. He had paid for it a little before he boarded the train from a kindly young woman at the station. She was nice. Smiled a bit crooked, but it was refreshingly genuine.

Swallowing and capping the drink for later, he felt a rustle from his coat pocket. Frowning, he reached in and pulled out a crumpled piece of white paper. The crisp folds no longer mattered as it had lay untouched in the jacket for the past few days. By now, it was quite smashed. He unfolded it, smoothing out the wrinkles on the laptop's keyboard. He wasn't reading it, not really. His eyes just skimmed over it and rested on the black ink emblem in the top corner. A sigh whispered from his lips. 

He looked up and gazed out the window. University. Why had he opted for an out-of-the-country school again? Ah, that was a question to be answered. Perhaps a silly little boy with beautiful freckles and a sloppy grin had done it. He smiled at that and leaned his head against the warm glass. The summer sun beat down upon him, but through the smooth layer of window, its sharp heat did not penetrate. It felt warm though, like the gentle caress of a lover. Comforting. 

He looked down, his computer's white screen jeering at him. A little black line, blinking incessantly, mocked him for not coming up with a posable email to his little sister for when he reached within range of internet connection again. Not been able to think of anything to write, he refolded the paper and closed the laptop with a quiet click.

The car gave a slight jerk before starting to slow down. He hadn't really been paying attention to the scenery, and when he looked back out the window, he saw. They were close to their destination. He smiled. Sitting up straight and tucking a strand of golden hair behind his ear, he slipped the paper back in his pocket and his laptop into his briefcase. Silently he noted how unusual that was for him, smiling. Smiling seemed to be a nuisance. Energy wasted that could be focused elsewhere. Like how the train was slithering up to the finish line, but the thought just made the corners of his mouth tug up again. That small grin stayed upon his cheeks as he stood, stretching and reached above his head to pull down his trunk. It stayed as he gripped his briefcase and followed the other passengers off the train. All the way until he reached fresh air. Gorgeous beautiful oxygen, filling his lungs. Now he felt the sun upon his face, his shoulders. It was hot, but he didn't mind. He looked around and his smile curled into a grin as he spotted him.

His darling little boy. They had grown up together, across the border. But now, liberated at last, he could be with his beloved. He dropped his belongings as glittering eyes finally found him. A relieved smile, then a more joyous, free grin. He opened his arms to catch an armful of boundless love. He folded his boy in a tight hug, nestling his face in fluffy red-brown hair breathing in the spices of glorious earth and the salty scent of the cool sea. The glorious smell of the one person who belonged to him, and belonged to in return.

He only smiled at times like this.

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Christina Rossini
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