Words Left Behind

I was rummaging through my old knickknacks,

a new House—

the chance to declutter.

I reached into the bottom of the cardboard box,

my hand grazed a rough surface.

I muttered under my breath,

probably another childhood diary of mine.

So I moved everything to see a crimson cover journal,

something familiar.

An illegible name was on the front,

yet the moment I read the first page…I knew.

These are her words.

'Every sunrise, sunset is unique to me. It's a reminder of new

knowledge about you. I see you in everything I do. I am learning

what it is like to love.'

After that, I continued to read.

The Clock ticked away the hours,

hours I will never forget.

I smiled, I laughed, I rolled my eyes—

until it suddenly stopped.

The last page.

My shaky hands hovered over the beautiful words.

'Whenever I miss you, I like to think you are laughing.

It helps knowing you are happier.

Even if it means, it's not with me.

I love your laughter, smile,

expression, passion, and existence. You taught me to love.'

Why did the story end this way?

I want to erase it.

To rewrite it.

This story isn’t mine to tell, only to read.

My eyes water.

She never told them.

A single tear escaped and hit the taupe colored paper.

My eyes traced down to the bottom of the page.

'February 9, 1988'

This wasn’t a diary,

it’s her last words.

I glanced back up at the small, cracked frame.

My beautiful Grandma.

Her soft, dark, pinned curls, and same kind eyes—

I wish she had known how much she was loved.

A Look Into Jules' Glass Bottle