The Butterfly Effect // Phan

chapter 2 // words

days since event: 51

rate today: 9/10

nightmares: none

positive message of the day: you hold the power to change everything.

Mum says I'm mad. She says it's hardly possible I've gone from a depressed shell to a motivated, outgoing social butterfly in exactly 2 weeks.

I don't tell her about Phil. I give her the credit. I tell her my grief journal has given me an outlet and the pamphlets have walked me through the stages and that I'm ready to exist again. I tell her I'm not over it and I haven't quite moved on, but I feel human again. She's proud of herself and she feels like she helped her son survive the darkest point in his life. She deserves to think that way. She did ask about my sprained, not broken, ankle. I brushed of off, told her I climbed a tree and fell. She smiled and laughed. She deserves to laugh. In reality, I've seen Phil every day. I get to the place without a bridge at noon, where Phil is waiting for me. We then walk around the woods for hours until we return to the spot and we say our goodbyes and agreements to meet again tomorrow.

"You know, Dan." He once said, kicking a pebble as he walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Every day I see you, you have a little more life in your eyes." I would laugh at his comment and say something stupid about how I have his death in my eyes. The days went on and every day I felt like I was less and less alone.

It's been two weeks to the day I met Phil. I made two sandwiches this particular morning. One was my favorite: peanut butter and jelly. The other was Phil's: ham and Swiss, toasted. I had to buy a toaster oven, but that doesn't matter much. I was starting to like toasting my food.
I happily swung on my grey jacket. I opened a window and propped my new potted plant on the sill. Phil gave it to me and it's given me something to care for every day. I keep it by my sink, and I put it in the window whenever it's open. I even named it: Lester, after Phil's surname.

I swung around my door and locked it behind me. The air was getting colder. I struggled to put the key into the lock because my hands were so cold. November was such an unforgiving month. There wasn't snow yet, but it wasn't warm enough to be comfortable. Somehow, I didn't mind. I was sure I'd warm up soon enough. I stuffed my keys in my pocket and walked off.

The ground cracked with ever step. The grass was freezing over. I watched as the hot air puffed steam out of my mouth. When I was little, I pretended I was a dragon. I puffed and roared at my parents until they'd laugh (or tell me to go away). I'd ask my dad to start campfire so I could pretend to light it with my breath. I was such an innocent kid. I had no idea what was happening in the world. I just knew I was a fire breathing dragon who could save the day if anyone was in danger. Nothing could ever hurt me. I was invincible.

The wooden post was iced over. I ran my finger over it to melt a pattern in the ice. I think I was trying to write my initials, but it ended up looking like squiggles.

"Wow. If I knew you were an artist I would've showed up sooner to see your work." I hear the voice behind me say. I spun around to look at Phil.

"Then I'd have to charge you extra." I say, pulling out his sandwich and throwing it at him. He laughed graciously and unwrapped it. I unwrap my sandwich as well and he passes me a warm to go cup. "You brought hot chocolate? Thanks man!" I say, opening the lid and sipping it.

"Don't mention it." He held up his cup in a toast. "To two weeks!" He announces. I grin and tap my cup against his.

"To two weeks." I say in response. I pull my bag back on my back and step onto the path. Phil started forward and I caught up. I pressed the lip of my cup gently against my lips and breathed in the warmth. It made the cold bearable. I look over at the icy, but not frozen stream. I couldn't help but wonder how it started freezing over so fast.