The Whole Night Sky (fiction)

During the day, the day after, he dares to wander back (to the cemetary). The lilac blooms still just as fragrant. Bring back to him those moments beneath the stars. Her skin. "You taste of heaven," he says to her then. The words coming just right. Just then. He wanted to say good things, and he did. And she laughed. They shushed one another, and laughed some more, fumbling and tumbling.

He didn't know then. He doesn't know now, but this will be the happiest (whatever that means) time of his life. These few days, weeks, months. Now, in the sunlight, he squints. Thirty minutes for lunch. He walks and eats three glazed cinnamon twists, and strolls the grounds. Overgrown grass. German script on stone. "Heir ruht im Frieden." Here lies in peace. A language he does not know. But he speaks the words, and others. Makes sounds that seem right.

Small rectangles of silence. Granite. Concrete. Still he doesn't see it. Not yet. Though he knows more today than yesterday. He knows more now than he ever imagined he would. Something's been lifted. "Im Frieden."

He knows. He doesn't know. In three weeks? A month? The lilacs. The laughter. The peonies. Small fallen stones, words weathered and worn away. So long ago.

He knows. He doesn't know. The laughter. The sweetness of honey. The dew. The lilacs. The whole night sky. This bright sun.


Ride in:          Temp 15'C Wind SE 8 ks
Ride home:    Temp 25'C Wind E 30 ks