- "the best answer," he said
- he could give was
- "I got up this morning"
- he's been saying that since November 29th
- because on November 28th
- the one who he had been waking up with
- every morning since my daddy was born
- since he got home from the war
- since before even that
- the one who he loved
- beside him all those years
- didn't get up
- he did.
- she never would again.
-
- so he sits quietly looking at a weeping cherry tree
- he planted in her garden. the garden she would sleep in
- and he reads the paper and occasionally
- glances when no one is around
- at the cold permanent stone
- and a tear swells up and runs
- down the cracks in his face
- down his favorite shirt.
- and splotches on the paper.
- smudging the statistics of the sports section.
-
- all the while he is remembering
- how they met
- at a party before he was shipped out to Europe
- before his knees were sore. before he started coaching
- and she started teaching,
- and they lived in a coal mining town. in virginia
- He remembers seeing her playing the piano at a party
- as people called out songs
- he remembers watching the fireworks with her on a hill
- on a warm summer night. holding hands.
- kissing.
-
- now he can hear
- the one I love
- play the old piano
- in the house they shared
- "she plays just like her"
- It brings another small tear to his eye
- but he's smiling
- humming a different song
- one he heard many many years ago
- its quiet when she finishes
- and then he breaks the silence