The Recital of Terrance Reed

The End

I closed the book, and I sighed deeply. I looked at the family I had made with Kyle. "And that's how I met your father."

"Awe, what a wonderful memoir, Dad," One of our children said. She just turned twenty-five.

Another scoffed. "Did you have to go into detail about the sex stuff?" He fluttered his hands. "I don't want to know my father was into feet." He was thirty.

"I think it's more of the appreciation of the body than an actual fetish. Sure, some for others, but from what he wrote. It was because he rarely ever saw Father's body. So I think it was the appreciation," Our final child said. They were the youngest, at the age of nineteen. "I think it's a sex-positive message that you can appreciate the body of another human that you love like Father likes feet. Weird but informative that sex comes in many forms. Not just the sex itself and foreplay. It can be better than anything if you talk to your other partner about it. So thanks, Dad."

"Of course, my sweet child," I bowed my head. "Remember never to be ashamed of safe, sex-positive messages and never to be ashamed of whom you love or what you love."

They all chuckled. Then, the silence took us. The sound of the rustling leaves had gathered my attention. I stared outside the window, facing a large concrete orchard filled with cars and housing older people.

"I know, you kept talking about it, Dad," He said.

"And I love hearing it every time," she said.

"Haha. Old dear me. Look at the time. I need to attend to your father. He's probably bored out of his mind without me," I exclaimed. "Time for you all to go back to your lives. I am sure they are more exciting than mine."

"Yeah, it is time for us to go. Sorry, Dad." She said apologetically. "We will visit you and Father sometime soon."

They all left with a big hug and grabbed each a copy of the memoir I wrote. Then, I stood up from the chair and left the old folks' home.

I took a deep breath of the summer air and noticed how fresh and crisp it smelled. Closing my eyes, I focused on the rustling of the leaves, cherishing every sound. Appreciating the little things had become my favourite pastime. Though I knew my time was limited, I kept that knowledge to myself, not wanting to burden my children. When the inevitable moment arrived, I would face it with acceptance. Surprisingly, the idea of my mortality no longer frightened me. I had lived a happy life with Kyle by my side, and that was what mattered most.

I turned down a long narrow pathway that led to a cemetery. I smiled as I saw Kyle standing there, waiting for me. "Oh, I am coming. My frail old legs never work as they used to."

I waddled through a maze of headstones, trying to find Kyle Reed's tombstone. But I saw the old crooked tree and his large tombstone in the distance. It was placed perfectly underneath the yellow tree so he could be shaded. He always liked the cool. He loved the feeling of the cool grass and looking up at the leaves dance. So did I.

"I am here, you old kook," I said.

His headstone said nothing, but I could hear what he said. I swear on my life that I can.

"Guess what, lover!"

His headstone said nothing.

"I finished the book!" I exclaimed.

As I sat beside the headstone of Kyle, another leaf gently landed on it before fluttering away, leading me to a butterfly. Though I struggled to sit down, I eventually took a deep breath and sighed, finding solace in the peaceful surroundings.

"Ah, there you are, Kyle," I uttered. "I was wondering when you would show up. Usually, you're waiting for me."

The butterfly flew toward his headstone and landed on the cooling stone surface.

"Oh, how I miss you, Butterfly," I whispered. "Why did you have to die sooner than me." I placed my hand on the headstone and rubbed it. "But I will be home with you someday. I promise it will be soon." A single tear dropped from my eyes.

The headstone whispered back to me.

"I know. I know," I cried. I wiped my tears away. "You always told me not to cry when you're gone. But I can't help myself. I miss you so much."

The headstone stayed silent.

"All right, let me read how we first met and found each other."

As I sat near the tombstone, it remained silent once more. However, a butterfly gracefully flew onto my outstretched fingers. I couldn't help but appreciate the intricate beauty of the butterfly as it perched perfectly on my aged index finger. With a smile, I felt it was ready to hear the story I had to tell.

"The story is called...."

As the butterfly flapped its wings and soared higher toward the sky, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and felt the wind brush against my fragile skin. It was an unusual sensation and made me realize how much my body had aged. Despite this, I felt grateful for the opportunity to experience life as a human being, especially with my beloved Kyle by my side. He was my reason for living, and the promise he made to me on our wedding day to remain together forever, even after death, was a vow I intended to keep. Like how a flower needs a garden to thrive, and a butterfly needs the freedom of the air, we need each other to survive. Our love was strong enough to overcome any obstacle, and I knew we would always be together until death did us part.

"...The Recital of Terrance Reed."