I can still hear it. The crunching sound of the gravel as we made our way. The trail is paved now, but I can still hear your footsteps walking next to mine. I can still smell it. The fires built up by families sharing a meal and lighthearted laughter. How you loved a good play of cards after rounds of hot dogs cooked on the fire. I can still hear your laughter too. You never forget the sound of laughter when it comes from a true place of happiness. Lastly, I can still see it. I can see you. I can see you before the cancer. Before your health dwindled before our eyes and you made me promise I'd look out for grandma for you. I see the fishing poles you carried and the bait you hooked for me. But mostly I see the man that saw me staring at a water lily, bored of fishing, and took my hand to wade into the lake and pluck the most beautiful lake flower I'd ever seen.
I see you feeding the swans even though grandma begged you not to. They are aggressive she says. How they followed you along the lake trail the rest of our visit. No matter where you went. You always had a way with animals. I believe animals are attracted to kindhearted people. When I wanted to see them better, you took me to the pier. You hoisted me up to sit on the railing while you held me steady. And when I stopped heading your warnings about leaning forward... you let go. The surprise knocks the response right out of your body. I just started to tumble. But you caught me and swept me into your arms. Laughing at your own joke. You would never let me fall. Eventually I found it funny too, even if grandma didn't.
Now the water is empty and there aren't any swans. Just reflections. Of the little girl with fiery brown hair and bright brown eyes. Reflections of what was, but what can never be again. You never know in these moments that they are the memories that last you a lifetime with the people that shape your soul for eternity. I still see you. I still hear you. Sometimes, I think I can still smell you. The old park is more beautiful than it's ever been, but it's forever missing a piece of its heart. The spot on your bench will never again be as warm. The sunny days, never quite as bright. But each day we rise, you and I. Because I still feel you. Because there are swans to be fed and water lilies to pick and cards to play. Because eventually there will be laughter again too.
