Title: I Love You This Much
Word count: 590
Author: Tim Wilkinson
I Love You This Much
Tim Wilkinson
“I love you this much,” she said, spreading her arms wide to each side, extending her fingers to expand her reach.
Her blue-green eyes sparkled in the violet glow of the fading sun, the cheap plastic string of polished white pearls gleaming. She smiled, wide and genuine, a soft rolling laughter erupting for her thin pink lips as her sprite tummy giggled slightly.
“But I love you infinity,” he responded.
“Yeah, but I love you infinity…plus a jillion.”
“Well, I still love you more,” I added with a firm finality that only tickled her more.
She cried earlier, when the large mother goose rushed her as she handed out bits of stale, crusty bread. She had been afraid. Who can blame her, not much bigger than a goose herself and not near as strong. Her tears were gone now, faded, the puffy pinkness surrounding her eyes too.
He remembered that time at the beach when he had run into the surf with her in his arms. She had never seen the ocean before, waves, sand. The wave was too big and he had rushed too far. It caught him by surprise, pushing then pulling at his feet as he toppled face first into the waist high sea. Of course, he could not let go of her, so he’d held on tight, going under, pushing her down before him. She came up last, choking and gagging, salty bubbles exiting her nose.
She was afraid then too, yet he was more. She cried then as well, but only for a time. He was not afraid today. He simply scoped her up. The goose was nowhere near as strong as that wave, nor near as deadly.
She still feared geese, and waves.
Yet as he remembered these things, he knew, that was all so long ago, years, centuries. She was gone now. He had lost her, even before that stupid letter, the one in which he’d said so much without ever saying what it was he most wanted. All his words and useless sentiments, wasted, for the words on the page were not his. The words on the paper, meaningless and void, said nothing of his heart, his pain, his love. They said nothing at all. Yet they said all she needed to hear.
She was his daughter. She always would be, yet he…well no, he was not her father. She made that clear and like I said, that was years ago. He hadn’t heard from her since and he never would. That was also clear.
Funny, he thought, how many words it takes to earn another’s love…and how few it takes to loose it. One phrase, one sentence, one word, is all it takes, all it took. All the years invested, the weekends together, the camping trips and the sleepy nights and early morns watching movies and cartoons, all the laughter and the smiles, well they matter not. Only the words live on.
He closed his eyes, feeling the cold in the high air ruffle his graying hair. Leaning forward, spreading his arms wide he yelled, “I love you. I love you this much…,” he added to the empty space before him, letting go.
He felt only lightness, a tickling, quivering sensation and a sudden weightlessness filling his belly as the moments fled past. After that, he knew only one instant of solid, harsh collision as his head shattered and split, flattening against the rushing pavement.
© 2013, Tim Wilkinson
