Flying with Broken Wings

73 5 0
                                    

The brisk wind blew the dry, scattered leaves around my feet as I stepped out of my car. I closed my door quietly trying to avoid breaking the near eerie silence of the air. The lifeless grass snapping and breaking beneath each of my steps. I gazed up at the looming rusted gate before me. Twisted green vines intertwined themselves in the bars of the gate. I hesitantly unlatched the gate and pushed it forward slowly. The piercing squeal shattered the silence of the cemetery, so I left the gate open behind me. I pulled my coat tightly around my shoulders to block the breeze. I scanned my eyes over the headstones in of the dimly lit cemetery, but I knew which stone I was looking for immediately. Tucked away on the far side of the cemetery was a small, dark grey granite stone. I slowly made my way across the yard to the grave a little unsure of my own feet. I stood only a few feet from the stone. I was smooth, though slightly damaged along the edges.  Very simple, yet elegance was still visible. I crouched down in front of the marker and dusted the leaves from its base. I traced my fingers lightly over the engravings as I read them aloud, "Rileigh A. White. October 17, 1987 - April 7, 2005." My voice was quiet as I kept reading, "The angel with broken wings," I paused, "finally learned to fly."

I ran a hand through my hair and dropped my eyes from the headstone. I had sworn to myself years ago that I would never come back to this cemetery. I could feel my composure slowly slipping away and I quickly worked to gather my bearings. None of this seemed real. Rileigh should still be here. She should still be alive. Rileigh should be living her life like any young woman would. Starting a family, graduating from college and starting her career or spending time with her friends. But, Rileigh has been gone for six years now. I felt tears stinging the back of my eyes and I blinked them back rapidly. I pushed myself back on my feet and slapped the dirt from the knees of my jeans as my anger grew inside me. I shook my head and spun on my heels to leave. I knew coming back here was a mistake. My hands were trembling with annoyance. I could not believe I had allowed myself to be naive enough to think I could come back here like nothing ever happened. Come here like this was not Rileigh, she had been my Rileigh. The tears now filled my eyes as I clenched my fists tightly together. I started to walk towards my car again when something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned my head to focus on the item: a Lily trembled slightly in the wind. I walked to the flower and carefully plucked it from it's place on the ground. I slowly spun the Lily between my fingers as I inspected the flower. Lilies were Rileigh's favorite flower. My body froze as I remembered the first time I gave her one.

Flying with Broken WingsWhere stories live. Discover now