Cessations of Summer

“Do you remember when Joey snuck under the neighbor’s fence and stole a rose off the rose bush because he remembered you saying how much you enjoyed the smell of them?” Jimmy chuckled to his wife, Honey. He placed a lined, weathered hand on top of hers with no less love than any time before. The sun shone through the open window between their two armchairs, lighting up their small house of memories with the glow of summer evening. A small pill bottle sat atop a doily on the side table between them, next to a single rose in a sleek green vase that soaked in the sunlight.

“I do. His poor little hands had so many tiny cuts, but he didn’t care a single bit. He always has been the sweetest boy. I had to act upset and make sure he knew the wrong in what he did, but lord, did it break my heart to see him go through so much trouble for me just to get in trouble for it,” she said with a faint smile. Once, it would have lightened up the room brighter than anything ever could, but now was quant and subtle, the nuance of a memory so long ago now portrayed through a small upturn of her lips. Somewhere outside, a northern cardinal chirped out a song.

“You think he’s the sweetest?” the old man contested. “How do you explain when he took the money from your purse to buy a bike from the kid down the street? What was his name? Brandon? He’s not without his moments of selfishness, though your face when you found out was funny.” The smell of a barbecue wafted into the house from the neighbor’s yard. Sweet and savory, they always cooked the most delicious brisket. It was a while since either of them had one, though brisket wasn’t easy for people as old as they.

“I let him keep it, though, didn’t I?” Honey said, garnering another chuckle from her love. “He paid it off over time. I can’t hold one bad decision over his head like that.” A child screamed from the cookout, giggling and crying in laughter. Someone must have been tickling them.

“Do you think they will be sad?” Jimmy asked.

“Sad, yes. But sadness is only ever temporary. I think they will understand,” Honey said.

“But I hope they don’t hold it against us, is what I mean.”

“Our children do not hold grudges, Jimmy Drew. They will understand.”

Jimmy’s eyes drifted from his sweet wife’s house shoes to the worn and tattered dog bed in the corner of the living room. Years of use depressed it into half the size it once was. By the end, it couldn’t have been very comfortable, but Lucy used to lay in it just the same. The memory of the old dog tugged at Jimmy’s heart, but he refused to frown.

“She was a happy dog, Jimmy. All the way,” Honey said.

“I know she was, sweetheart.”

“I miss her too.”

A child gleefully splashed into a pool in the neighbor’s yard, causing a group of women to groan, surely wet from the spray. The party would go in full swing late into the night, though it was a cheerful noise, not a nuisance. The Drew’s never minded. It was a reminder renewed nearly every summer weekend that life should be spent with your loved ones.

“I love you,” Jimmy said.

“I love you too,” Honey responded.

After a while, the sun sent stretches of orange and yellow through the window and onto the frayed tasseled rug in front of their chairs. Years ago, little hands with little brushes would comb out the knots and straighten each tassel. So long ago, so recent on their minds.

“Do you remember the fireflies?” Jimmy asked.

“Oh yes. The kids loved them. I think Sarah loved them the most. How many times did she catch them in a jar and put it on her side table?”

“So many tiny lives snuffed out by a girl and her fear of the dark,” Jimmy chuckled.

“Do you think her husband has noticed yet? Her dislike of the dark.”

“I can’t imagine he hasn’t; I think it’s been almost ten years.”

“Ten years? Lord, did that move quick.” Honey Drew’s head bobbed forward before she caught it and sat back up. “Eyes are getting heavy. How do you feel?”

“They’re feeling a bit heavier than usual.”

“Would you like to stay in our chairs, or would you like to go to bed?”

“I think the chairs are fine. What do you think?”

“I think the chairs are fine.”

A stretch of silence followed the sunlight down past the window until the light from the small lamp that hung on the wall above the side table between them painted the patch of grass that was once a garden outside. Old stones still set a boundary where shoots of produce once poked from the ground, now overgrown nearly wholly by grass. Years had passed since Jimmy and Honey knelt down and plucked potatoes and carrots with the children.

“I hope I don’t think of something to say to you before we go to sleep; I never sleep well when somethings on my mind,” Honey said. Jimmy smiled and patted her hand.

“What more could we say to each other after sixty-two years?” he said.

“I’m just saying it would be rather inconvenient a time to be restless. Who knows what the outcome could be?”

“It will be fine, my love. I wouldn’t worry about it.” Jimmy leaned back in the armchair and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. His chest hurt, but he couldn’t quite place the reason.

Together, they sat in chairs formed around their shapes, decades of memories pressed into the cushions. The kids often tried to convince them to trade them in for something newer. Many times, the couple refused, opting for familiarity and remembrances. Even now, decades after they were first bought, the two felt more at home and safe in their chairs than anywhere else in the world.

Jimmy leaned over and kissed his wife on the hand.

“Can’t forget that,” he said.

“You never have. I was beginning to think I would miss out.”

“I think the time is coming soon, my love.”

“So, it seems. I guess it’s too late for any second guessing.”

“Much too late, but I don’t have any regrets. Do you?”

“No, my love.”

“I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be awake, so I think I’ll say it now, sweetheart.”

Honey nodded with a subtle smile and a pat on the top of his hand.

“There are billions of lives happening just as we speak, and billions before and yet to come. But in all the options God had when he placed me, I am forever grateful that he placed me with you.” A tear rolled down his cheek as he squeezed Honey’s hand with as much strength as he could muster.

“Don’t cry. I always hate when you cry,” Honey said, not much more than a whisper. “Thank you for providing for and protecting our family all these years.”

Jimmy sniffed, and Honey wiped away a tear. The two sat for a long while in silence, each holding tight to the other’s hands, neither wanting to close their eyes first. Honey nodded forward again, and her eyes slid closed.

“Goodbye, my love. Rest easy now. I will see you soon, okay?” Jimmy said.

The silence he received broke every bit of heart he had. Tears welled up in his eyes and fell as he closed them and took another deep breath. The party next door erupted in laughter, an unheard joke or a sweet memory shared. Jimmy didn’t know, but he smiled despite the pain. With an exhalation, Jimmy drifted into the black, sounds of happiness and memories fading with him.