A person once said, "Change is the only constant, and it's all good. We don't only survive in it, we thrive in it"
He was wrong.
To Marlin, the world was a cruel place full of darkness without light and hatred without faltering. Everything changed, and time moved faster then a speeding horse.
Change. So much change. Any constant he found was death-gripped and held tightly to him, in order to stop his eternal fall.
There was one big constant in his life. She was to him, the most perfect thing that ever walked God's earth, and he would have moved the earth for her.
But true to human nature, we take things constant for granted. Marlin did, too.
To him, at that moment, the world was right, and still. In that short time, everything fit, like pieces of a massive jigsaw puzzle. The picture was finally coming together after years of working piece by piece, making corners, occasionally linking pieces, but now, all the pieces were falling into place.
Everything was perfect. He was home, he was happy, and he had Celia.
But, as all before him have at one time or another, he took this for granted.
Somewhere, he let this false sense of security envelop him and he lost his focus.
To him, the sky was blue, the grass was green, the birds sang, and Celia was his.
But, the sky isn't always blue, and the grass isn't always green.
Sometimes, the sky is as red as blood, and sometimes, sometimes the grass is brown and parched and dead.
Birds don't always sing. Sometimes, they whimper and cry, and warble low and sad in tones of mourning.
And sometimes, Celia isn't his.
But, these things will all come to pass. Sometime eventually, the skies will return to cerulean, the grass will grow full and green, and the birds will sing and dance through the sky on the fingers of the wind.
But, Celia won't ever be his again.
Some things change, and return to normal. Others don't. Celia doesn't.
Once she was gone, she would never come back. And she is.
Marlin doesn't talk about her much. He pretends not to see her when he walks down the street, and he looks at his feet when she kisses the other man.
But, somewhere, he would still move the earth for her, his Celia.
And sometimes he thinks about her, and feels an unending emptiness knowing that she's not his anymore, and never will be again.
Change is the only constant, he knows now. And it's not all good.
But he would gladly brave the only constant and live through another life of change and hurt and pain and sorrow, if only to have her beside him again.
That won't ever happen, though.
And somewhere inside him, Marlin is lying in the dead brown grass, listening to the mourning of birds, as they cry verbal tears under a blood red sky.