Reunion | Teen Ink

Reunion

October 20, 2009
By calayfosho BRONZE, Denver, Colorado
calayfosho BRONZE, Denver, Colorado
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I sat straight up in my seat, trying to find a position that was comfortable, it was useless. A couple of times I opened my mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. I didn’t know what to say, or how to put the words in order. My mouth quivered, my sight blurred, and for a second I thought I would burst into tears. I sniffed, trying to hold it in, for just a little bit longer. I was in control of my own emotions.
The silence echoed, shrill in my ears, and it mocked me. It was strange how there was nothing more ear splitting than the quietness of silence.
I glanced anxiously at the clock. It read 2:43 pm. Great, I thought to myself, only one hour and ten minutes to go. I reached for the radio, to turn it on. All I heard was static. Sighhhh….well this is obviously fate, telling me: I need to talk to her. What should I say? After 30 years of life what could I say? How was college? Did you graduate? Have any kids? What about a husband? Anything new or exciting? Do you live near here? There’s more then a million things I can say; although I didn’t know what to say. How could I put it in words, I thought?
Wasn’t this what I’ve always wanted? I didn’t know anymore. Looking at this beautiful young woman, I made sure to look at each one of her features, not knowing if I would ever see her again. The straight, strawberry blonde locks of hair swept down past her like sheer lacey curtains. Her eyes shined, not as brightly as I last remembered. They looked as if they were missing their most special twinkle. They were a mysterious hazel, olive, and sapphire color.
Lines shaped her face, traced out all of her emotions: concern, shock, dread, stress, irritation, anger, impulsiveness. I couldn’t make out any signs of happiness or exuberance. Knowing her so perfectly well, I realized she was still such a complete stranger to me. Recalling the last time I saw her, I remember she was six and a half years old. While lying in her tiny, little bed, dead asleep, I pecked her cheek. Walking out the door, I bottled up my emotions, didn’t cry, didn’t speak, left, and I kept it in. I couldn’t keep it in any longer…..
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, breaking the eerie silence, “for leaving you without waking you up to say goodbye. I’m sorry for the endless therapy and counseling sessions you had to sit through, not even to help ease the pain much. I’m sorry for ruining your life. I’m sorry for the nights where you cried yourself to sleep. I’m so sorry for the hole in your heart that never healed. I’m sorry for leaving you my sweet, the best thing I would have ever had in my life. I’m sorry for the boy problems you had that I was never there to help with. I’m sorry for all the pain I have been causing you. I’m sorry for everything you missed out on, and everything you never got to experience because of me. I know this list doesn’t even to begin to complete how many shameful and dreadful things that happened and could have happened. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry.”
Silence. A couple minutes pass by.

Then she finally spoke. She said the most unexpected words, the words I never in a million years thought she would ever say to me. She says them so perfectly well just the way I wanted her to say them. She says them with feeling and emotion, those two words, “It’s ok.”
She smiles. I smile. We cry. We laugh. We hug. We talk. The next thing I know it is 11:00 pm, and she hasn’t even gotten past ten years old yet. I couldn’t believe everything I had missed out on. I was thrilled and prepared for the rest of my life, to spend it with my daughter.


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