|Thank to my cousin, Jose Luis, for this perfect image.|
I find myself resting in the middle of a dark, empty forest. The dry branches above rustle when a gentle breeze whispers by. The wind turns my head to a road bending towards the soft glow of sunlight. Is it dusk or dawn?
And where's my sweater? When I go hiking I often take one in case the weather dips, but I don't carry one today. That's odd. I'm usually prepared for these sorts of things.
Victor often made fun of my Girl Scout tendencies. I used to pack large lunches and extra clothes in case we ran into a cozy Bed and Breakfast on our day trips. He loved living life without a plan, without preparation, just to prove he was a survivor. We would occasionally argue about me wasting too much time packing for the unforeseen.
"I roll with the punches," Victor would to say.
"And what if I kick you?" I'd respond, trying my hardest to trump him.
"That's why I stick with you, Katherine. Life punches me down to the ground, but you kick me to get back up."
He would laugh and then hug me, and that would make our argument fade away. We would have made fifty years in May, but Victor didn't make it. A massive stroke took him from me last month. My heart was broken. I don't think I ever recovered.
And now, I'm in the middle of this strange forest without a sweater to keep me warm, without food to feed my hunger...my troop leader would have been so disappointed. I wonder, what would Victor do?
"Over here, Katherine," Victor's sweet voice rings from around the bend. "I have your sweater for you."
I chuckle. Of course, now, Victor is prepared.
Dedicado a mi Tia Teo.
Descanse en paz.