"If I was beautiful like you…"
The rain is like a curtain in front of
me and behind me and all around me, yet I'm safe in my car. I'm in his shoes; I'm watching my life that
has passed me by go surging into vicious reality. Suddenly, the lights flash bright. My foot unconsciously slams down, and I skid. The car swerves, I can feel it wrench out of
my grip, and I feel the sudden stop.
The only thing that I can hear now is a loud crash that follows in grim
succession, and the shatter of glass piercing my mind.
I'm on the outside looking in, watching
from above as the pride and joy of my family, the flower, the rose, is launched
unceremoniously through the windshield of the car, and skids along the
pavement. The cars in front and behind
and all around are in a jumbled pile of scrap metal and bodies. People are impaled on shards of glass,
people are bleeding, sirens are wailing, people are screaming and crying.
And yet my rose lies, blood-laden and
rich, red as a fresh-cut flower in an ungraceful heap on the ground, still and
quiet. His soul screams.
The deafening wail rips through my mind
and I'm suddenly jerked back into a tangible world of reality. The soul washes over me like a tsunami, and
I am myself again. In this world, a
woman wails for the loss of her son, a man puts his hand on her shoulder and
murmurs words of support, and I am a lone figure standing before all others, on
the battleground that had once been.
Wordlessly my face softens
empathetically. I had seen the accident
that had taken my brothers vivacity and thrown him out into the recesses of mortality;
farther than he had ever wanted to go.
I crouch down and lay my bloodstained
rose, my gift, upon the pavement, and make the sign of the cross over it.
"May you all rest in peace…" I murmur,
and straighten my legs. They ache, like
hinges that so desperately need oil.
Another wail lurches from the crowd and I look skyward at the dim,
midday sun.
"Kari!" mothers voice beckons me, and I
turn with a defeated smile on my face.
My parents huddle around a small figure who is weak and trembling in his
dark jacket. His locks and masses of
gentle brown hair tumble in his face, and he clings helplessly to a crutch that
is tucked under his arm like it's all he has in the world. The memories cloud his eyes like fever and
he trembles, whimpering softly. My
parents hover around him, their touches barely anything against his shoulders
and face. He shivers with fear, his
brief encounter with death reducing him from mighty lion in his prime, to
trembling lamb who has lost his flock.
I smile compassionately up at him and
walk swiftly towards him. Gently, yet
forcefully, I throw my arms around his neck, and pull him close.
"Kari, be careful!" my parents
warn. But I am so very careful. I am careful to consider what he needs. He does not need to be alienated; he does
not need to be treated like glass. He
needs to be loved, and to acknowledge that he was really alive, not some dead
shadow lingering in the air.
I feel him waver uncertainly, and then
suddenly latch onto me for support. Our
hug is brief, yet speaks volumes.
I pull away and peer up at him. His brown eyes cloud over with confusion and
bewilderment, put as I press my palms to his cool cheeks they flash with
recognition and joy. My brother was
once dead, but is now alive. He was
once blind, but now sees.
"Aijou, Taichi…" I whisper in
elation. I pull him close to me once
more and let him lean on me. I
understand…
He pulls me close and shudders in
relief.
"Aijou…" he whispers in return.
