A Weekend In July

 "Are you going to write about this?"

You know, I wasn't going to.

I was going to keep it all to myself and keep it in my head and never put it into words.

Then, I looked at the pictures and the feeling of being there, in that space, with that presence?

It came right back.

If I am anything, I am a storyteller.

Let me tell you this story.

Once upon a time, 

there was a girl on a phone call,

driving home from a lavender farm.

A conversation

turned into an invitation, 

which turned into plane tickets

and packing for a weekend trip.

She got on a bus

that took her to the plane, 

and she went in headfirst 

and refused to look back again.

She was met with flashing light,

a trivia night,

a smile,

and laughing until her chest felt tight.

A round or two of a game 

where she had to steal a car,

and just having to laugh

because she didn’t make it very far.

She got on a train the next day,

full of vigor in a political sway.

She immersed herself in the atmosphere of hot air 

determined that someday, she would return there.

And as the day turned to evening,

eye contact gave her hitched breathing.

A trio as they took on a club,

scared of being left behind 

until there was a hand held.

Uncontrollably smiling at the old things in a museum,

melting at the sight of other families' plans.

Smiling at a little one with light-up shoes

and imagining that someday, she would have one too.

A long drive with good music 

(although it was often skipped) 

to a beautiful building he cared about,

she listened, took everything in. 

A moment of silence for the reason she was alive,

and that name on the wall left her praying to the sky.

Flat-backed on the ground as the sky curved above,

laughing to herself, taking the in view, 

trying to memorize 

the feeling of it all.

The sky turned into 

a much darker blue 

and looking at the sights 

gave her peace that night.

We hold these truths, 

and indeed, we do,

because sometimes the truth

is the least that we can do.

And then there was that movie,

the one with the missed second chance,

and she couldn't fall asleep that night, 

stared at the ceiling and wondered if.

In the morning she sat beside him 

and prayed just as she always does. 

Every week, 

once a week,

that they both feel God's love.

The rest of the day, 

she took in with wide eyes,

knowing that soon again, 

she'd be flying home in the skies. 

The clock ticked down until there were minutes left,

and two tight hugs later,

she took one big breath.

She walked into the airport

but stopped to look back once.

It was hard to walk away

from a weekend more than fun.

If there was anything that she learned

from this little weekend trip,

it's that the best moments happen

and in memory, will always exist. 

She was glad she went

and soaked in every second.

But then she thought and realized

there was a second lesson.

It came to her 

without a warning,

the internal monologue. 

This is that lesson,

realized while in air:

First chances are given,

a second chance is rare,

and a third chance won't happen

because three would leave her bare.

"Are you going to write about this?"

No.

"You should."

Well,

I did. 

It's right there.

-Emma Lancaster