Letting Go

      Although he was comfortable enough, it was a cold, damp morning. He stared straight ahead, trying to understand. The scene was familiar, but confusing. After a considerable amount of effort, he managed to focus his eyes, if not his thoughts. Right in front of him were tiny beads of moisture on top of a roughly hewn chunk of marble. As he slowly looked around, he noticed a wet leaf stuck to the side of this silent slab of stone. The image started to fade from view once more, but this time a bright blue and yellow object caught his eye. It appeared to be a child's glove.
      He stopped to inspect the glove more closely. Lying amongst the autumn leaves, it was folded over and covered in dirt - perhaps it had been run over by a bicycle, or even a car. It surely belonged to a very young child, as tiny as it was.
      Suddenly, he was overcome with a deep sadness, and he didn't know why. He began to speculate. Was this child now crying because one hand was cold? Were his parents angry because he lost it? Maybe they couldn't afford to buy him a new pair...but it was just a glove, and he put it out of his mind. Once again the scene before him melted into the air.
     
      Words echoed through the cold dark water; words of warning. He concentrated, and could clearly hear the instructor's voice:
      "Remember, folks, if you surface for any reason at all - look up. And when you look up, make sure you open your mouth. The air inside your lungs will be expanding, and will find it's own way out. We don't want any accidents on our first dive, now do we?"
      He rose slowly through the water, and began to feel light-headed. His heart no longer pounded; he was actually comfortable in the water. As he continued upward, his sinuses started to expand. This created a gentle clicking sound inside his head. A steady rush of bubbles left his nose and mouth. The water engulfing his body began to get warmer. He was drifting - no, flying - silently to the surface of the ocean. Breaking through the waves into the sound of chattering sea-birds, he removed his mask, and laughed out loud. Cool spray from the breaking waves hit his face. He blinked. The sun was far too bright, so he closed his eyes.

      When he opened them again, he was dry. His body felt exceptionally heavy in comparison to the buoyancy of the salt water. Looking down at a pair of unsteady, weather-beaten hands, he realized he was holding something. It was a photograph - an old, faded photograph. A smile instantly spread across his face. He knew the young men in this picture. They all wore the same uniform, and the mask of a brave warrior. And yet, it was from behind such masks that these frightened teenagers hid from their fears.
      Nobody ever understood the bond they all shared. There was something about the horror that kept them so close. He never made friends like that again, and although he didn't see much of these men over the years, they literally grew old together. Except for Paul and Roger; they never aged. Casualties of a short, but brutal war, they stayed nineteen forever.
      He held the photo to his chest. Perhaps he should have cried, but then again, that wasn't what soldiers were supposed to do, so he just closed his eyes and smiled. When he eventually looked down again, he was no longer holding the photo, but a child's glove. It was the same glove that he had found trampled in the dirt. Now he was crying, and he didn't know why. He examined the tiny fingers, and somehow knew that they once covered the hand of a little boy. He felt sure of that.

      "Can I help you, Sir..." A female voice interrupted his thoughts. "Sir, are you all right?"
      "Uh, sorry..." His arms were now full of groceries, so he placed them down on a dirty black rubber conveyer belt. She rang each item in as they passed: a six-pack of coke, a tin of spaghetti, beans, canned fruit and a box of "Fruit Loops" cereal. He suppressed a smile. At what age did he actually eat this stuff?
      "That'll be nineteen eighty five." The young woman said, snapping her gum.
      He looked up at her, and instantly recognized the shape of her face, the familiar curiosity in her eyes. She was gorgeous, and yet so very young. Was this really the way she looked when they first met?
      He already knew his next line. "Not for a couple of days, it won't be!"
      She stared blankly at him, and stopped chewing her gum. Then a mischievous smile slowly crept over her face.
      "That's right..." she gathered up all his groceries, and put them to one side. "You can pick these up at midnight on New Year's Eve. Don't worry - I'll keep everything in my fridge for you."
      She scribbled her phone number on the back of an old receipt. He reached for the piece of paper, but it faded quickly, exposing the rough pinkish stone that was all too familiar to him.
      It was summer now, or at least spring. The sun barely cleared the edge of the rolling hills behind him. A deep yellow light warmed the back of his neck; it was comforting, and made him feel rather sleepy. He ran his hand down past the top of the stone, and over the smooth, polished face. His fingers stopped - there were engraved letters. Should he try to look down and read them? No - not yet - maybe later. Besides, he thought he knew what they would say. Instead, he turned and floated into a warm pool of sunlight.

      A crowd was cheering, and he got caught up in the excitement himself. But all he could see were clouds swirling out of control as he lay on his back. One by one, concerned faces popped into his view, framed by the scratched-up helmet he was wearing. He ached all over.
      "Are you all right?" It was his old college roommate.
      He thought about it for second. "Ya...I guess so..."
      "That was quite a catch. I thought for sure you'd drop it."
      A second voice joined in. "That's the game, buddy. We've won!"
      He slowly rose to his feet, it's not very often that you win a football game, he thought, even if it's only an intramural meet. He wanted to savor this moment some more. The crowd cheered again - only now it was more like applause.
      "Great speech." A woman's voice barked in one ear. "2020 is going to be our year!"
      He turned away from the sea of smiling faces. He looked at his former boss, and laughed.
      "I guess a randomly integrated feedback system isn't such a bad idea, after all!"
      "Yes, you were right," the woman replied, "and I'm more than willing to sign you to that contract extension tomorrow."
      He smiled at her. "No, thanks."
      She looked shocked. "Why not? We can really shake up this industry together..."
      "No, I can really shake up this industry. You can find somebody else to exploit." The words had been rehearsed over and over in his mind, but now they sounded oddly foreign.
      He felt good. For the first time in his life, he was firmly in control of his own destiny. He looked back towards the crowd, but they were silent. In fact, he could see now that the room was empty, and he was all alone once more.

      "Mr. Joseph?" A nurse stood beside his chair.
      "Yes?"
      "Congratulations, you're a father now. You have a baby boy!"
      Of all the moments in his life, this was the one he most enjoyed re-living. He held the tiny infant in his arms, and marveled at such miniature perfection. His son's eyes were shut tight as he flailed about for no particular reason. But what strength - this baby must have been eight and a half pounds of solid muscle!
      He was beaming now; this was his proudest moment. Then he carefully placed the infant back into it's mother's arms. Together, they were all that was beautiful in the world.
      Before long, his wife and child drifted into a white fog. Suddenly, he felt a rush of fear; a helpless, confusing fear. Something was not right. He had always hated this part. But the moment soon passed, as it always did, and he drifted away himself.
     
      There was the glove again. This time a light dusting of snow had covered it. He bent down to pick it up, determined to discover it's significance this time. That was when he noticed a second stone, one that was considerably smaller than the first. He concentrated, desperately trying to put it into focus.
      He saw a name: Joseph.
      The name didn't disturb him; in fact, it made sense. He had always known what the stone represented; he just didn't want to think about it. But why was there a second stone?
      He tried once more to disappear into the misty white, but nothing happened. Something was different this time. Although it seemed inevitable that he would eventually have to let go of this dream, he didn't want to...
      "Daddy!" A high-pitched voice pierced through the falling snow.
      Coming out of the fog was the outline of a little boy. He was wearing a baggy snowsuit, and over-sized snow boots. The boy's face was still a blur, but one of his gloves was quite definitely missing.
      "Daddy...where have you been?"
      The voice was familiar...
      "I've been waiting and waiting and waiting. Where were you?"
      He knelt down, and the little boy finally came into focus. It had been years since he'd seen his son's smiling face. He reached out, and a small but confident hand grabbed his fingers firmly.
            "C'mon - I'll show you the way. Mommy's waiting for us."