Doors close

Rain will always fall. Sun, when out from behind clouds, will always shine. When I place my foot on this pedal the wheels will always move. The music I listen to will always reflect the mood I'm in.

That scar on your eyelid will always be there. The burns will always be on your knuckles in summer. The smell of shaving cream will always remind me of grandpa.

Jason Aldean will always remind me of the summer of my unexpected. Los Lonely Boys will always remind me of my last summer of sisterhood.

My first Twix and my first flight will always remind me of the orange colored Missouri in fall. And my cousins doors.

Doors.

I'll always remember the door closing for the last time. Seeing the face of these people for the last time in slow motion. A solemn goodbye. Always walking already wishing to change that last moment because deep down it seems I knew in that time frame I could have melted in that spot.

My heart, the one I surround with metal gates of pride, transforms into a waterfall of molten iron once that door closes for the last normal time.

In my mind their voices toll.

There's a wish to have taken them in one last grasp and whispered I love you in their ear. A whisper to hold truth within every decibel. A whisper that makes a person hold the fragile sweetness within the sparkle of the light that reflects in their eye.

But instead the door closes as their eye is overcome by shadow.