Sitting on an edge with my son. I can’t tell, and it doesn’t matter, what the edge is. Either a building or a bridge, something so high up that all we can see are clouds below us and a soft wind.

We’re so high that it’s quiet and dark and a little bit chilly.

I am looking down at our legs and at the space below us. So high up that I can’t even tell where the bottom is or what the bottom is that we are sitting above.

I dangle my legs and let them swing back and forth a bit. His are not moving, his hands rest on his thighs and I look over at him and his head is drooped forward, I can’t see his face clearly.

We aren’t speaking at all, just sitting together. We have been talking but now everything is said and we’re just together. Waiting it feels like.

He is dark and I can feel the sadness and the heaviness coming off of him. I reach over and put my hand on his and he looks sideways towards me a little and I can see a hint of a smile as I feel his fingers wiggle under mine and one finger curls over mine, holding for a second.

He lifts his hands and I move mine away. He places his hands on the edge beside his body and silently shifts his weight and he’s gone.

I look and watch him fall, quietly, slowly it feels to me.

I place my hands beside me and push off, following.

The wind rushes past me and I see him as I fall faster.

He looks over his shoulder as I approach and he speaks to me asking why I followed him, telling me that I can’t save him.

As I wrap my arms around him and hold him close to me I tell him that I know I can’t and I simply didn’t want him to be alone.

Eyes closed and darkness.

I wake from my dream and the hurt from knowing that he did go alone sits heavy in me.


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