Realistic Fiction
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"Our time together is never quite enough."
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"And now, we will have Mr. Miller speak," the pastor said, nodding towards me. I held my speech tightly in my hands, and walked up the maroon carpeted steps to the podium.
I looked up into the sea of familiar faces many of which are tear soaked, or on the verge of. "I'm not much of a public speaker, as many of you already know," I stopped when a few sounds of agreement played through, "But she wanted me to stand in front of you and talk, and I would do anything for, so here I am. I don't really know how to look at the world without her in it, so I am going to talk as though she is here. Last night, our youngest granddaughter asked me, if you could wish for anything what would it be. I had never thought of that, so I said, I do not know, and returned the question. She giggled to herself and said a day at Disneyland. When they left and I was laying alone in bed, I thought of that question again. And I have an answer," I stopped for a moment.
"I would ask for one more day with you. A day before the cancer. A normal, ordinary day, maybe even a Monday. A day where I am woken with the sounds of your soft snores, and I chuckle to myself, before rolling out of bed. I walk down stairs to put on a pot of coffee, and you come down the stairs moments later, asking me to install an elevator with a smile on your sleepy face. Wisps of your greyed hair falling into your face. I would make some comment about getting right on that, and you would come to me in the kitchen resting your sweet forehead on my chest, letting out a small sigh, and I would wrap you in a hug. I want a morning like that.
I want a day where you see me laying on the couch with my feet propped up on the coffee table, and you push them off, calling me a lazy slob. I want a day where you scold me about getting a basket of fries then eat more than half. I want to help you find your heels, and kill the spiders climbing in the shower. I want to sit in the car waiting for twenty minutes, while you finish getting ready. I want to hold you in my arms. I want you. I just want you, a day of you. That is all I want," I finish, not even realizing the tears that had sprung from my eyes. I take a moment and breath deeply to settle myself.
"My Scarlett was a hell of a woman," I say going off script. "Um, sorry," I tell to the pastor, earning a few scattered laughs. "Anyone that spent a second with her can tell you that. Just look around this room at all the people she touched. Thank you for coming today."
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