The party was lovely. Beautiful weather, waves gently rolling over the sand, sun shining. As always, we all gathered there for you, duded out in our best, even though we spent our time together; away from you. Suddenly the weather turned, the sky darkened and the ocean roared. I saw the ship, faintly, behind the curtains of fog and mist and I knew it was for you. Frantic, I told everyone you were leaving, but no one believed me. The horns thundered and it was deafening, I was sure everyone could hear them. I screamed my warning above the sounds, but no one believed me. The lighthouse, always in full vision yet forgotten after so many years, shone its dull light and I jumped up and down and pointed and shouted, but no one believed me. From nowhere, you came to shore. We all gathered round you. I saw the bags at your feet. It was clear you were leaving. I looked into countless eyes, awaiting the understanding nod that yes, they finally saw it too, but still no one believed me. I kissed you goodbye and gave my blessing for a safe journey up North, not realizing that I didn’t believe me too. The baby ran towards the water, my attention caught for a split second, but when I turned back, you were gone. Everyone told me you had left, but I didn’t believe them.
We all dressed in black. We had parties centered around a pretense of love for one another, convincing ourselves that if we held on to each other, maybe we’d find you amongst us. A little in Will, a spot in Anna, a smile in Margret, a talent in Jeremy. But you were no where to be found. I said I loved them as I loved you, but I didn’t believe me. Over time, the party lights became as dull as the lighthouse. They took on a sour scent. Then bitter. It was your light that provided the warmth and clarity, your perfume that kept the stench at bay. The parties became few and far between. Some stopped coming, some disappeared, but the worst of all had more parties, stinking of gangrene decay.
I wish I could’ve bottled that perfume, but silly me, I should’ve known it could never be caught. It was the wild aroma of yellow roses, sunshine, and a humid breeze. No chemical, no matter how strong, could recreate the natural sweetness. I’ve kept what few possessions you and the vultures left behind. They’re shut up tight in decorative boxes and drawers and when I open them, your perfume escapes and while I relish in the embrace, enraptured, I desperately slam closed the boxes and drawers as quickly as possible, so as to never lose your perfume, like I’ve lost you.
That was many years ago, now. No more ships have come in, the lighthouse still stands, the baby is now a boy, and the fog and mist have hung around since you departed. It’s difficult to see and I don’t know which way I’m going, but the boy guides me without intention. In him, I see your smile, your talent, your light, and a perfume much like your own. You told me he would, but I didn’t believe you.