Sons and Lovers

It has been hard letting go of your ghost. The loving embrace, bedroom banter, and how sometimes you treated me like your 9-year-old son. Some “mother” element was well stroked by the care you wrapped me in during the apocalypse. We hunkered down as the first horseman arrived and scared the bejesus out of all of us.

Other aspects of disrespect were downright toxic. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get mean or even use the word toxic, and now I’ve used it TWICE. Let me try again to recover what keeps the gravitational pull active.

Was it just a place and time? An event that happens once in a lifetime? A trip to Vermont during the rising death count. We attempted escape velocity together. But your base station was still earthbound and administered by my archnemesis. That’s also not fair. I did not have anything against either your best friend or her husband. The problem was how you failed to come to my aid. Even after repeated failures and resets, the needle would not move in my direction.

Still, there was something. Something I obviously can’t touch or name. An intangible connection that still remains no matter what sharp weapons I use to hack at the golden threads that still tie me to your memory.

I’m better now. I’m in love again. This time there is no lack of respect. We are both adults. I’m able to act more my age.

Read more Short-Short Stories from John.