Becoming Found #1

4- Forced in Memory

Resting on the floor, my attention lands on a box that lays in the very back of the underside of my bed. I've never seen it before so without much hesitation, um pulling it out, sitting up to lift the cover. On the very inside of the box lives countless numbers of loose photographs, a journal, and some folded up letters. One-by-one, I begin to remove the items; emptying the box.

Shifting through the photos, I find that majority of them are just of me and that only few of them are of me and her together. For the photos of me, I never knew of them being taken, and from the places they were, they were taken on trips with her on some nature walk or search for an abandoned home that's breaking down; to find beauty in it. Finding all of these photos, it made me smile as I filled the box back up with then and reach for the journal. Written inside the journal is every time we've ever been together, and almost on thought, did I flip to the very back to find our last time together; July 18th. I didn't know what I was hoping to find but it was exactly the same as I dreamed of it but in her words and her perspective.

A little disappointed, another thought comes into mind as I begin to sort through the letters. I search for the most recent dated one, and when I find it, I unfold it all the way and read it word for word. It read this:

I should have started to slip away from you, but the thought of losing you, leaving you, it made me only want to hold onto you tighter. I know I should tell you everything, but I fear you might make me stay here or reject my offer to come with. I couldn't imagine either if those options, so instead I found myself watching you as you fell asleep; dreamed. That was when I realized that I wanted to remember you like that; at peace.

'I keep wondering when my last night with you will be and even so much as to what you dream of at night; I always have. Could it be me, or is it something else entirely? I ask this, because asleep, your hair remains in it's original place; your closed eyes chasing a dream, fluttering; your lips full and occasionally turning into a small smile. Some days, I imagine me kissing you awake...

Come with me. I keep wanting to ask you to, but I'm so afraid of what your answer might be. This is why I remain so quiet, but even now, I wish I knew the answer.. Yes or no?

Either way, I'm sorry, but I have to go. I love you.'

Refolding the letter, I load the box back up completely and push it back under my bed.

Come with me. I keep wondering what I would have said to her. I like to imagine I'd said yes, but where would we go?

Where is she now?