Armageddon

He walked up ahead of her a bit, head looking down, kicking leaves around him. She stopped moving forward, stood still taking him in. His head turned back to her and a smile covered his face.

Are you ok

I am ok, can you come back here towards me

He shuffled back to her slowly, feet covered in leaves. The ground was doused with oranges and yellows, the surface they covered left unknown, like the bottom of a lake. 

She reached out for his hand for comfort but also balance. 

Some nice out

They walked in the forest, searching for nothing, crunching and sprawling of leaves in the ears, heat on their faces, chill on their backs. 

I remember the first time I ever saw a willow tree. All boisterous and loud. Her arms reaching out to the other trees in an open embrace. So proud, not coy at all. Her arms covered in puffy sleeves like a prom dress. I couldn’t take it all in at once. It’s immensity, it’s coverage, she said. 

It was hard for her to find a willow in Newfoundland. Rural Ontario flung them out everywhere. Head soldiers, mothers of the forest. Their wings whispery and soft. 

Their motions were slow. They walked in circles on purpose. 

Time to head back then

They sauntered back, wobbling with fatigue, big slow yawns bellowing out of them. Her head slid under his arm and they walked haphazardly together like a duo in a three legged race. 

He had to leave the next day. Head home on a plane. She’d sing John Denver to him when the thought came up. Then she asked if he remembered the song redone in the movie Armageddon. 

Ahh yes I do. 

Do you remember how John Denver songs signaled death in that other movie?

No I don’t think I can say I do. 

She used to smell him when he was cooking. She could enter the kitchen and come up behind to smell his skin before all the ingredients floated up to his hair and mixed in with who he was.

He walked her to the couch and put her head on his lap, brushed her hair from her face and put her book in her hand. He wanted her to sleep but he had to coa her into her, her eyes forced open to catch every minute of him. Like he would never exist again after tomorrow. 

I had a mailbox at the end of our driveway. My dad used to put surprises in there when I got home off the bus. A rock, a charm, a candy, he said, lulling her to sleep. 

Oh that is delicious and wonderful. 

I thought so. 

You should write about it. 

Her words became soft and slow and her eyelids started to cover her eyes. She would hum a bit as she fell asleep and he knew he had won her over. He loved her sleeping. His hands moved gently up and down her arm.

He took her book from her hand and started reading it. Every once and awhile he would look down at her. A whole warmth covered his body and he nodded to himself. She was asleep for nearly an hour, she awoke slowly. Closed eyed stretches, soft noises. 

When she opened her eyes and focused on his face, she got panicked. 

No no no no look at all the time I missed.  

You didn’t miss a thing.

I don’t want to miss a thing. Another Armageddon reference. We are going to have to watch that movie at some point. 

It’s not a great movie, but it is, but it’s not. 

That’s exactly it.