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This is the moment I treasure most, when he comes apart in my arms. When all the rigid discipline fails him in the face of our passion, and he drops his head to the curve of my neck, his breaths coming harshly, holding on to me like we are indeed in outer space and I’m the only solid thing in his universe. Zero gravity. Celestial. Astral. Infinity: immeasurable.
Better todays make better tomorrows, and if you don’t get tomorrow, at least you had today.”
“This body is a shell,” she says, her voice sober. “No matter how beautiful or what size or how healthy, every single body inevitably returns to dust. It is not your legacy. It is not what you leave behind.”
This body is a battlefield, and my limbs, once flawless, carry the scars. I trust, I hope, that they will fade in time, but I must accept who and how I am right now.
I’ve lost those I held dearest—my first love and my last. My daddy and my mama. The friends I laughed and lived alongside, all gone, and still, I’m not alone. Love lingers and I feel them all with me even now. I can almost see Tilda standing at my side, wearing a wicked grin and her rent-red dress. Almost hear Cal’s trumpet, blowing like the Angel Gabriel’s. Even death cannot steal, even time cannot erase, the peace I found in all the people I have known and loved.
