Wednesday, July 1, 2009
In the time that we have been apart, you have taken the liberty of hiring a mason to fix the hole in the roof that has been drowning us during the recent frequent storms. He is employed at Insensitivity Constructions, currently under the ownership of Mr. Hert Summore.
We were too busy through the time that he was at home working, to realise that instead of fixing the roof, he was putting all his energy into building a red brick wall in the center of the room. Right in between your television stand and my book shelf. You’re so busy examining yourself in the mirror to notice the 10x10” window he has built for our convenience. Every brick he lays has a date on it. Oh, look hunny… he is laying the last one right on the top. This is the one that shuts your entry into my side and my exit out of this empty space I am now standing in.
I’m on my tiptoes trying to see the date on the last one. I peep through the window and ask you, “Baby, what’s the date on that last one?” You ask, “What do you mean by that? What date? What last one?” And I smiled as I realized the obvious. Your side of the wall is bright white with a perfect coat of paint. And as tears roll down my cheeks and into my smile-parted lips, I know the date on the last red-brick.