Right My Wrong

The smell of coffee wafting throughout the room opened my eyes from my brief nap on the couch. I poured two mugs and carried them to the back porch. The cold wind cut into my skin as I placed the coffee on the table and sipped it slowly. Snow gently fell across the woodland as our house sat by the frozen pond, with the town forty miles away. I stared at the pond in silence, finishing my coffee and taking a deep breath. I placed the cups in the sink, dumping the second mug then I reached for my notebook. Turning the pages, I reached my list and checked off a goal. Skimming through the list I then close the notebook and walk outside. I pick up a few pebbles and try to skip one across the ice. The stone clacks against the frozen water as I watch it slide away. After a while I step back into the warm home and examine our outdated calendar. Next week a date night we flew kites; so in tradition after a week goes by I pulled them out of the closet. A snow storm ravaged throughout the sky while snow piled on me. My hands felt frozen within my gloves as I attached one kite to a rock and held the other. The wind was brutal while the kite flapped around and hit the ground repeatedly. After half an hour I finally allowed myself to step inside and warm my pained fingers, and then I ticked off another goal in the notebook.

The next few weeks I performed my daily necessities of eating, sleeping, and collecting firewood. However, once finished I would sit on the couch and stare off into the pond through the window. Every Sunday I would step out of the house and repeat our old activities. I placed two beach chairs out and sat under the beach umbrella, sunbathing. Next week I laid out the picnic blanket on the white snow and ate a sandwich, leaving the other behind. A chuckle even escaped my mouth as I held my fishing rod and tossed a line onto the pond. The hook sat on the ice and while I looked over to the other rod on the floor. “You know if we can catch a fish like this it’ll be a damn miracle.” Every so often I would reel the line in so that I could throw it out again. By sunset we packed up our supplies and I walked to the house. “Usually I catch more than this. Guess today was an off day.” I smiled. Time passed again and we took a tour around the pond. Walking through the snow and going for a second lap because we didn’t want our date night to end too early. Weeks later I dusted off an old Polaroid and took pictures of the lake, the trees, and the home. I stood by one tree and took a picture of myself with the empty space next to me. One Sunday I took our small wooden boat out to the pond. I dragged it across the frozen surface a dozen meters out and laid down in it. I closed my eyes and listened to the gentle rustle of the trees and imagined the smell of the water beneath me. My fingers stroked across the ice outside of the boat. Cold as it was, I could not bear to take them off the ice.

Time continued on and the snow began to melt. This morning tears had escaped me as I wiped them away and walked outside with my boom box. I sat it by the lake and inserted the cassette that played our favorite songs. I poured two glasses of our favorite wine I was saving and drank mine in one gulp. Walking out onto the pond I closed my eyes and felt the music flow through me. We danced to every song on the ice. Spinning and sliding as the ice started to crack. The music rang loud in my ear, my heart raced as I danced in place. The cracks grew with every step. Soon the ice finally gave way, allowing me to slip into the frozen water. I sank but my eyes were now able to see my beautiful wife once more. I held her hand and closed my eyes as the hole froze over above us. ‘Everything is now as it should have always been. Done together.’