Some Memories

The violets didn't bloom this year.

Funny, how I notice that fact as I mow the lawn where we used to play.

I miss their little purple faces, peeking up from their homes on the ground. They told our story, the springs and summers when we would lay under the mulberry tree together. Fond memories of golden-hued afternoons, the sun poking through the canopy above us.

It's been years, but one never really gets over the loss of a friend, right?

Nature is starting to encroach upon our childhood, grass overgrowing the well-worn places we used to run and walk together, trees extending their greedy branches as if they want to hide memories away from the world.

But we are made of memories, much as some of us hate to admit. They spur us on, and hold us back, all in the same infinite instant.

I hope they bloom next year, those violets, so they can help me remember the way we were happy.

Help me remember who I used to be, perhaps.

Another funny thing, how a tiny purple flower with heart-shaped leaves can remind you of someone you left behind. I think I left both of us behind, even if I didn't mean to.

Sometimes, I think it was for the best, other times…Well, not so much.

I have a lot to make up my mind about, it would seem. We'll come to that when we're faced with it, won't we?

The tree we cut down still retains its heart-shaped branch, friend, even though it's old and brown now, in death. There are lots of things out there that remind me of you, but I can never seem to see a ghost, or hear you speak. Maybe that's a good thing.

I hope the violets bloom next year.

So maybe they can give me some peace.