Walking the streets for days got me nowhere. I didn’t even have dreams at night that helped me find her. That’s the trouble with my gift, I suppose. How random it is, how it suddenly puts something in my head, out of the blue, and changes everything.
After a week of walking, I needed a break. Deborah told me to go watch the water in the lake at the park, and to walk among the trees and flowers. She knew me, and knew how much that would restore me, rebuild me, so I could keep looking.
If I’d ever learned what my own feelings were, I would have known my heart was telling me I needed that visit. But, I never was able to figure out what I felt. Sometimes, Deborah had to figure it out for me.
I’d walked among the trees, and spent hours touching them, their bark, their leaves, the ground they grew from. Sometimes, I thought they talked with me, told me about all the time they’d seen pass, the people that came and went, some who came frequently, and grew old, and stopped coming. Others, who came once, like they were checking a box on a bucket list, and never came back.
“You know, anyone else would call me a Fruit Loop. Listening to the trees.” I swear they laughed.
Eventually, I found my way to the lake, fake as it was, just a hole dug in the ground, surrounded by rocks, to help it keep its shape. It had a little man made waterfall on one end. The trees had taken a liking to it. Made the entire place look more real.
I sat on the grass, and watched the water, and trees.
And just like that, I knew where she was.
It’s Week 83 of #SwiftFicFriday, hosted by Katheryn Avila. I’m wondering what the heck is going on with this story. There seems to be only one way for me to find out. Anyway. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #SwiftFicFriday. They are always fun to read. And there are some great writers who show up regularly.