What I really wanted to say.............

In desperation and a moment of feeling as if he

can't breathe....he flings the backdoor open

and start to run. 

Only when he finds himself in the middle of

an open field does he stop.

With his heart pounding and perspiration dripping

down his face he closes his eyes and tries to slow 

down his breathing.

Though it has been a long time since he last felt

the urge to just run away, 

yet here he is, in the middle of a field

with eyes closed and flashback after flashback 

darting through his consciousness.... 

No! I refuse to go back there. I will not let the

past dictate my now. I am here now. Come on,

focus on the now!!! Open your eyes!!

Slowly he opens his eyes, lifts his gaze from the

 ground to the sky.

Once, a long time ago, he would often find comfort

and even a little hope when he allowed his eyes and mind

to get lost in the vastness of the heavens above.

Why do we keep searching the skies for an answer?

And,......should we be given an answer, what kind of 

configuration would such consist of?

As his eyes tries to penetrate and reach beyond

the temporal spheres, a sudden noise behind him

urge him back to earth, back to the ''here and now''.

He turns around and finds himself facing a large 

black bird with piercing blue eyes.

What? Is this an answer? Surely not.

The bird just stands there. Bobbing its head.

Let's take a step closer to the bird and

see what it does.

The bird bobs his head and then takes a step

closer as well.

Geez. Not scared. Is it tame perhaps?

-Hey you, not scared, are you.

-Have you come to tell me something

or........?

As the last word leaves his lips, it dawns

on him that if any one of his friends happened 

to see him standing there in the middle of a

field talking to a big black bird, they would

most assuredly assume that he had lost his mind.

Have I lost my mind? I have heard that grief can 

do strange things to you.

Slowly he takes a few steps towards the bird.

The bird tips its head from side to side,

but doesn't move.

When he is almost within an arm's length of 

the bird, he stops.

The bird still doesn't move.

Having had a very strange dream the night before

in which his friend had ''appeared'' and told him

to ''not grieve as every time he thought of him,

he was there'', he couldn't help but wonder

if the bird may have had something to do with the dream.

Because the bird, somehow, was making him feel calm

and comforted.

Only when it suddenly began to rain did the bird

move. And then,

barely making a sound, it spread its wings

and flew away.

As he stepped inside the front door,

dripping wet and somewhat confused,

he turned on the last recording he had made

with his friend and finally, wept.

What I really wanted to say to you the last

time we talked, was how much I miss you.

*

I still miss you, friend.