?Prologue


It’s been five years now, but I haven’t fulfilled my promise to him. I can’t until
I let go, but I’m not emotionally prepared to do so. I tread along a frosty path,
finding alleviation in the fact that he is still lingering behind me. I gaze helplessly
into the austere winter sky; its desolate color matches the palate of my emotions. The
sun is just beginning to rise in the distance; a pallid beacon of light is erupting from
behind a cluster of threatening clouds in the horizon. In the same way, there is a
faint beacon of light still glimmering inside of me. As I twiddle the withered golden
rose through my frostbitten fingers, tears flood to my weary eyes once again. I am
recollecting his appearance. He wasn’t the most striking character in the eyes of the
world, but to me he was . . . beautiful I suppose, for lack of a better adjective. His
shaggy auburn hair was often tasseled by the gentle winds of our small town. The
Tennessee sun would frequently gleam on his porcelain skin just so it would reflect a
slight luminescent glow. William had little muscle, but the feel of our fingers
interlocking was so potent and seemingly inseparable. His pearly white teeth, which
were being aligned by braces were always sprinkled with rubber bands of cobalt blue,
his favorite color, and lime green, mine. I can almost smell the aroma of his Hollister
cologne wafting up my nose, sending warm sensations down my spine. It’s almost
like I can touch him even though he isn’t really here.

The tears are flowing steadily now.

Although my vision is blurry, I make my way to a lofty oak tree and crouch
beneath it. The winding path I’m on continues to the spot that I still have trouble
facing. I place my trembling fingers on the left pocket and feel the words in the note
that is protruding. I’ve read it over and over again, but its compelling message still
prompts me and stirs the innermost depths of my debilitated soul. I told my friends
and family that I’d be leaving town early in the morning, but only my closest
friends know my actual whereabouts. I run my fingers through my knotty hair not
wanting to remember, but not daring to forget.

Everything runs through my head one more time- Lance, the dream, our first
date, the ten questions, forgiveness, the promises we made to each other, New Year’s
eve, the note, and most painfully- love. Who are we as weak humans to be given such
a powerful gift? I know the answer is simple, but so profound at the same time;
ironically, the human mind can’t comprehend it.

I learned a powerful lesson a few years ago; love triumphs over all weakness,
fear and confusion. I made a promise that I would teach that lesson to someone else,
and I strongly intend to keep it, no matter what adversity it inflicts while I’m here on
earth. Indeed, the promise of love is powerful enough to heal any suffering it causes.
The promise it brings, and the promise I made to him beat prominently inside of me
as church bells echo into the tranquil scene of dawn breaking in the distance.