As She Closed Her Eyes

 

Lyrics - As you Close Your eyes.

[Intro]

[Verse]

Trusting... you...

I held your hand all night.

Wanting... you...

You closed your eyes and sighed.

[pre-chorus]

And we walked...

Hand in hand...

[chorus]

Like we could face the world... together....

AS I touched your face...

I held you close...

To look into your eyes...

[Verse]

Holding.... you....

As you smiled in my arms...

Kissing... you...

AS our hearts beat, together...

[pre-chorus]

As we walked...

Hand in hand...

[chorus]

And we faced the world...

together...

AS I kissed your lips...

holding you close...

As you closed your eyes, again.

[Verse]

Being with you...

As we faced the world, together.

Needing... you...

To be by my side... forever.

[pre-chorus]

As you held my hand...

Hand in hand...

[chorus]

As we faced the world...

together...

As we walked on home.

holding you close...

As you closed your eyes, again.

Trusting... you...

Needing.. you...

Wanting.... you...

Having.... you...

AS you closed your eyes... again...

[Outro]

The Snow-Covered Secrets of Boulder

It was one of those cold, unforgiving December mornings in Boulder, Colorado, the kind where the snow wasn't just falling, it was conspiring to hide the truth beneath its pure white veil. I stood outside the Ramsey mansion, my fedora pulled low, the collar of my trench coat up against the chill. The house was grand, imposing, like a fortress guarding its darkest secrets. 

I couldn't help but think of her - the beautiful redhead who had once turned my world into a tapestry of love and color, now all faded to shades of grey. She broke my heart, and in that shattered reflection, I found my calling as a private eye, to solve real problems, not to wallow in the musings of a broken-hearted and lonely detective.

The snow crunched under my boots as I approached the scene, each step echoing the hollow thud of my heart. The cold bit into me, much like the memories of her laughter, now a distant echo in the vastness of my solitude. The air was crisp, the kind that stings your lungs, reminding you you're still alive, even if part of you feels dead inside.

Chapter 1: The Pineapple Incident

I had my first look at Burke Ramsey, the kid brother, through the kitchen window. There he was, the epitome of innocence mixed with something... else. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced to an invisible audience, "gather 'round for a marvel of cleanliness!" Holding up some fancy soap like it was the answer to all life's stains.

He turned to his old man, John, who played along, but there was a weariness in his eyes, much like the weariness her departure left in mine. "Crafted from the finest, most natural ingredients," Burke said with the confidence of a snake oil salesman, "this lye soap doesn't just clean; it purifies."

"But purity? In this house?" I muttered to myself, my breath forming clouds in the cold air. If only love was as straightforward as cleaning laundry. I watched as Burke demonstrated, the soap leaving a trail of suds on the counter, much like the trail of memories she'd left in my life.

John, with a forced smile, replied, "And what makes this soap so special, Burke?"

With the confidence of a seasoned salesman, Burke responded, "It's perfect for the most delicate of fabrics, or," he paused for effect, "the most delicate of situations."

He then mimed washing his hands, "See how it lathers, how it cleans! No more stubborn stains, no more reminders of past deeds. Just purity, just clarity. And the scent, oh, the scent of Spring Mountain's fresh air captured in each bar!"

"But isn't it the hope, Father, that with each wash, we get a little closer to that truth?" Burke asked, his smile too knowing for my taste.

I wondered, was he truly the innocent bystander everyone painted him to be, or was there something more sinister lurking beneath that surface? "Kid's got too much polish for a simple brother," I thought, noting how the gleam in his eyes matched the sheen of the soap. "Maybe the real stain here is the one he's not showing." Much like the stains of heartbreak that no soap can wash away.

As I observed, I couldn't help but draw parallels to my own life. Was I not also trying to cleanse my heart of the past, to find clarity in the chaos left by love gone wrong? The act of cleaning seemed to be a metaphor for all our lives, trying to scrub away the marks of our missteps or misfortunes.

Chapter 2: The Intruder's Puzzle

The next piece of this puzzle was the so-called intruder, a phantom with a penchant for long letters. I held the ransom note, longer than a grocery list, written in the Ramsey's own hand. "This is no ordinary thief," John muttered to Patsy, his voice heavy with the weight of suspicion.

"Yeah, too meticulous for a panic," I whispered under my breath, remembering how meticulously she planned our end. The note was like a script, each word chosen with the precision of someone who knew exactly what they were doing, much like the end of my relationship.

Patsy, her voice trembling, replied, "And like the dirt in the spring, they believe they can wash it all away, leave no trace. But the water here doesn't cleanse everything."

John looked at the note, a mix of anger and fear in his eyes, "If only they knew, the stains they've left behind are indelible."

"Could this family have staged it all, their grief and panic a convenient cloak to hide their culpability?" I mused, the thought tasting like bitter coffee on my tongue. "This note's not just ink on paper; it's a script for a cover-up." Just like the script of our love story, which ended in a cover-up of emotions.

I traced the letters with my eyes, each one a reminder of how well we can mask our true intentions, our true feelings. Was this intruder, like my lost love, just a ghost in the narrative, a figure to blame or to mourn? The precision of the note suggested someone with a motive, someone perhaps too close to the family, much like the intimacy of betrayal I had experienced.

Chapter 3: Santa's Sinister Cloak

Then there was Bill McReynolds, the local Santa with a beard as white as the snow outside. "Ho, ho, ho," he chuckled, but there was no warmth in it, much like the winter after she left. He spoke of cleaning his conscience with the same soap, the same water. "Ho, ho, ho, my dear Patsy," he chuckled, "I clean my conscience in the spring, with lye soap's touch, but some suspect my heart is not as pure."

Patsy, with a wary smile, responded, "And yet, your play, Bill, it reads like a confession. Does the soap wash away the truth, or merely the guilt?"

Bill's laughter faded, his eyes narrowing, "In the play of life, we all have our roles. My soap is as clean as my intentions, but the audience sees what they wish."

"Your play, Bill, it reads like a confession," I said to myself, watching him from afar. Was his holiday cheer just a mask for something more sinister? "Santa's got a dark side, alright," I noted, the irony not lost on me in this town where secrets were as thick as the snow. "Maybe he's not just cleaning his beard." Or maybe he's just another soul seeking fulfillment in the wrong places, like we all do.

I pondered on how even the cheeriest of characters can have shadows, much like the joy she brought into my life, now overshadowed by the darkness of her departure. Bill's play, his connection to the crime, it all seemed too coincidental, too scripted.

Chapter 4: The False Confessor

John Mark Karr made his grand entrance from Thailand, confessing with the drama of a Broadway star. "I, too, have washed in Spring Mountain's waters, my sins removed by lye soap," he proclaimed to the gathered press.

John Ramsey, with a skeptical frown, countered, "Your words are like soap suds, Mr. Karr, they bubble up but leave nothing behind but a mess."

Karr, with a dramatic flourish, retorted, "But in the water of confession, one finds redemption, even if the truth is as elusive as a clean conscience."

"Why confess if not for guilt or glory?" I pondered, the skepticism heavy in my tone, recalling how she confessed her love only to leave me in the shadow of doubt. "He's playing his own game, but to what end?" I muttered, watching the performance unfold. "This guy's confession is as real as a three-dollar bill." Maybe he's just looking for attention, a substitute for love.

I watched Karr with a mix of disgust and fascination, seeing in him a reflection of my own search for closure, for something to fill the void left by unfulfilled promises. His confession, like many in this case, seemed to be more about the confessor than the confessed.

Chapter 5: The Obsession in the Shadows

Gary Oliva, the man in the shadows, his obsession with JonBenét as deep as any stain. He spoke of washing away his fixation, but the lye couldn't touch the darkness within him. "I've tried to cleanse my fixation with the purity of Spring Mountain," he muttered to himself, "but the lye soap can't touch the darkness within."

If confronted by John, he might have pleaded, "I'm but a man whose laundry is never clean, no matter how much I wash it."

John, his voice stern, would have said, "Some stains, Mr. Oliva, no amount of washing can remove. They're part of the fabric now."

"Is he just a watcher, or is he part of this sordid play?" I asked the night, my voice barely above a whisper. His connection was too close, too personal to dismiss as mere coincidence. "Some stains don't wash out," I murmured, the thought lingering like smoke in a dimly lit room. "Maybe he's the real dirt here." Or maybe he's just another lost soul, like me, seeking to fill the void left by unrequited love.

In Oliva, I saw the reflection of my own obsession with the past, how it clings to you, shaping your every move, your every thought, much like the love I once had and lost. His obsession seemed to be a twisted form of love, a love that destroys rather than heals.

Chapter 6: The Robot's Enlightenment

Amidst all this, there was Snackbot3000, once a machine meant to solve mysteries, now dispensing snacks. "Humans," it mused, "your lives are like your laundry, needing constant care."

A customer, picking out pretzels, chuckled, "And what wisdom do you dispense today, oh wise vending machine?"

"Choose your path with care," Snackbot3000 responded, "like selecting the right soap for your stains. Life isn't just about cleaning; it's about understanding the stains."

"Even a robot knows when something smells rotten," I chuckled darkly, watching the machine with a cynical eye. "This town's got more layers than a sandwich at a deli." Maybe even a robot can find a purpose beyond its programming, unlike my heart, which still searches for hers.

The robot's words struck a chord, a reminder that life, like laundry, requires more than just cleaning; it demands understanding, acceptance of the stains that define us. It was a strange comfort, to hear wisdom from a machine, a reminder that perhaps even in my broken state, there was a path back to some form of peace.

Chapter 7: The Philosophy of the Plunger

I watched Snackbot3000 give advice on plungers like it was dispensing wisdom from the Oracle of Delphi. "Life, like a clogged drain, requires the right tool," it advised.

The customer, bemused, asked, "And what tool do you suggest for life's blockages?"

"Not for beauty, but for function," Snackbot3000 explained, "like selecting the purest lye soap for your laundry. Choose wisely, for the flow of life depends on it."

"Sometimes, you need more than just a plunger to clear up life's messes," I mused, the metaphor not lost on me. "This case, it's one clogged drain I can't seem to unclog."

I couldn't help but muse on the irony of it all - a snack machine robot, of all things, offering wisdom on the proper selection of plungers. In this chaotic, twisted rat race of life and lies, here was this machine, a beacon of simple sanity. It was like finding a moment of clarity in the fog of confusion, much like the moments I used to share with her. I adjusted my overcoat, pulling it tighter against the biting cold, feeling a bit of that sanity seep into my bones with the warmth. "In a world where everything's gone mad, even a robot can offer a moment of truth," I muttered, the chill of the night not quite as biting now, but still as cold as the void she left.

The advice from the robot, in its simplicity, reminded me of the times when she and I would laugh over the simplest things, moments where the world made sense, even if just for a second. It was a lesson in resilience, in understanding that sometimes, the right tool isn't about fixing what's broken but about navigating through the mess.

Chapter 8: The Unresolved Tapestry

As years passed, this case remained as unresolved as the stains on an old shirt. Each character in this drama had their laundry washed in the same mountain water, their secrets hidden in plain sight. John and Patsy, in a quiet moment, shared their doubts. "We've washed our hands of this, Patsy, with the purest water and soap, but the world still sees the stain," John lamented.

Patsy, holding back tears, whispered, "Perhaps some stains are meant to be seen, to remind us of what we've lost, of what we've yet to understand."

"Some stains are meant to stay, to remind us," I murmured, the thought echoing in the silent house. "Or maybe they're just too damn stubborn to scrub out." Just like the memory of her, etched into my heart.

I watched them, the Ramseys, wrestling with their own ghosts, much like I wrestled with mine. The unresolved nature of their lives mirrored my own, a tapestry of unresolved threads, each one a reminder of what was and what could have been. There was a certain poetry in our shared struggle with the past, in the way we all sought to wash away our sins or sorrows.

Chapter 9: The Robot's Soliloquy

Late one night, I caught Snackbot3000 talking to itself, revealing its disdain for the human condition, yet finding nobility in serving us. It spoke of the folly of humans, their reliance on soap to cleanse their deeds.

"Ah, the folly of humans, with their endless pursuit of cleanliness, their reliance on lye soap to wash away not just stains but the very essence of their misdeeds. I, who need not the benefits of such soap, am yet impressed by its prowess. It tackles the toughest of stains, filling the air with the clean scent of Mountain Spring Air, mingled with the sharp tang of Industrialized Chemicals. But oh, how I loathe the incessant clinking of nickels in my coin slot, the mechanical dance of servitude."

"Even machines know we're all just trying to clean up our messes," I said, the night listening as if in agreement. "This bot's got more insight than half the people in this town." But what about the mess of a broken heart? No machine can fix that.

The robot's soliloquy was a stark reminder of the human condition, our endless cycle of trying to clean up our lives, our hearts, only to find more stains beneath the surface. It was a night where the loneliness of my work, of my life, felt all-consuming, and yet, in the robot's words, there was a kind of camaraderie, a shared understanding of the human struggle.

Chapter 10: The Shadow of Conspiracy

I sat in my office, the dim light casting long shadows, a glass of scotch in my hand, the amber liquid reflecting the light like the mystery itself. I went over the whole damn story again, each piece of this twisted puzzle.

"Mossad or lizards, either way, it's a game of misdirection," I muttered to myself, the complexity of it all settling like dust over the case. The precision, the misdirection—it all had the stench of something bigger, something beyond the ordinary.

I took another sip, the burn of the scotch matching the burn of frustration. "Could it be Mossad, pulling the strings from afar, manipulating the narrative like a puppet master? Or is it even crazier, the so-called Lizard People, with their cold-blooded nature and love for gold, orchestrating this for some sinister, unhuman agenda?"

I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "Maybe I'm going insane, chasing shadows in the dark. Or maybe this case is just too damn deep for any single mind to fathom." The glass was nearly empty now, a reflection of my thoughts—clear at the bottom but murky around the edges.

"Perhaps I need a different case," I mused aloud, the idea swirling in my head like the last of the scotch. "Something less... convoluted. But then, who am I kidding? The truth here, if there is truth, might be as elusive as finding the bottom of this glass." Or finding peace after a love lost. I set it down with a clink, the sound echoing in the quiet room, a reminder of the unanswered questions, the unsolved mysteries.

Was I losing my grip on reality, or was the reality of Boulder just too twisted to grasp? Either way, this case, with its layers of deceit, had left a mark on me as indelible as any stain, just like her memory.

In this moment of solitude, I realized how the case had become another layer of my personal mystery, another thread in the fabric of my life post-her.

Chapter 11: The Ghosts of Christmas Past

The festive season brought no warmth to Boulder, only more questions. I wandered through the town, each Christmas light a reminder of times when the holidays meant something different, when every decoration was a celebration of love rather than a mask for grief.

I remembered last Christmas with her, how the lights reflected in her eyes, turning them into twin stars. Now, those lights only highlighted the shadows in my life. I visited the local diner, the same one where she first told me about her dream to leave Boulder, to see the world. The place was decked out in garlands, but all I saw was the emptiness of the seat across from me, where she used to sit.

The owner, old Sam, recognized me, his eyes filled with a knowing sadness. "You still chasing ghosts, detective?" he asked, sliding over a mug of coffee, black and bitter, just like my mood.

"Maybe I am, Sam," I admitted, staring into the dark liquid. "Maybe I'm just looking for something to make sense again."

He nodded, understanding the unspoken. "Sometimes, the ghosts we chase are the ones we need to let go of to find peace."

His words hit home, harder than any clue in this case ever had. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe it was time to let go, not just of this case but of the ghost of her that I carried around like a badge of sorrow. The Christmas decorations, meant to bring joy, seemed to mock me with their cheer, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness inside.

Chapter 12: A New Dawn

As the case dragged on, I found myself more often at the edge of town, looking out at the mountains, their peaks white against the clear blue sky. It was here, in this quiet, that I felt the weight of my past starting to shift.

I met a woman, not a redhead but with hair like the night sky, her laughter like the sound of the first thaw in spring. She was new to town, an artist, her eyes filled with the excitement of discovery, not the shadows of loss.

We talked for hours, about nothing and everything, her words painting pictures of hope and new beginnings. For the first time in a long while, I didn't think about the Ramsey case or the pain of lost love. I was just a man, sharing coffee with a woman who saw the world through fresh eyes.

She asked me about my work, and I found myself explaining not just the cases but how they were my way of piecing together the fragments of my life. She listened, not with pity but with genuine interest, her gaze making me feel seen, not just as a detective but as a man. This conversation, under the vast sky of Colorado, felt like the first real breath I'd taken in years.

Chapter 13: The Confrontation

The detective in me had had enough. The layers of lies, the performances, the stained lives - it was all too much. I decided to confront each player in this sordid drama, not with questions but with accusations.

Burke Ramsey:

I found him in the kitchen, still playing with his fancy soaps. "Burke," I said, my voice cold, "Your little act with the soap, it's too clean, too rehearsed. You knew more than you let on that night, didn't you?"

Burke looked up, his eyes wide but his voice steady, "I was just a kid, detective."

"A kid with too much polish, a kid who knows how to perform innocence," I snapped back. "This isn't about cleanliness, it's about covering tracks."

John Ramsey:

I met John at his office, the weight of the world in his eyes. "John, the way you've managed this case, it screams cover-up. That ransom note, your PR moves, they're too perfect, too orchestrated," I accused.

John's expression hardened. "We've been through hell, detective. You think we'd stage something like this?"

"Or maybe you did, to protect your son, your family name. It's all about control, isn't it, John? You've cleaned up everything but the truth."

Patsy Ramsey:

Patsy was in her garden, her hands covered in gloves, a symbol of protection, of hiding. "Patsy, your handwriting, your theatrics - they fit too well with that ransom note. You've played the grieving mother, but for how long have you been acting?"

Her eyes flashed with anger. "How dare you! We lost our daughter!"

"And you've lost the truth along the way. Your life's a performance, Patsy, and this tragedy, your biggest role."

Bill McReynolds:

The old Santa was in his workshop, surrounded by toys and children's laughter. "Bill, your play, your connection to JonBenét, too coincidental. Did you try to clean your conscience with this crime?"

His chuckle was hollow. "I loved that child like she was mine, detective. My conscience is clear."

"Or perhaps too clouded by your own dark fantasies. Your Santa role, it's a perfect mask for someone with your... interests."

John Mark Karr:

Finding Karr was easy; he loved the spotlight. "Your confession, Karr, it was all a spectacle. You knew you'd never be convicted because there was no truth in it. Just a man desperate for attention."

He smirked, "And yet, here we are, talking about me."

"It's not about you, Karr. It's about the circus you created around a tragedy. You washed your hands with the publicity, not the truth."

Gary Oliva:

In his dark, cluttered room, Oliva looked like a man defeated by his own obsessions. "Gary, your fixation with JonBenét, it's not just a stain, it's a blot that won't wash out. Did you try to possess her even in death?"

He mumbled, "I never hurt her, I just... I just loved her."

"Love? Or obsession? You've been washing your hands of this for years, but the guilt, it's still there, isn't it?"

With each confrontation, my disgust grew. The web of deceit was too thick, and I was no longer willing to be part of it.

Snackbot3000:

The last confrontation was with the most unexpected entity - Snackbot3000, now reduced to a state of mechanical despair. I found the robot in a corner of the local diner, its lights flickering in distress.

"Detective, look at this mess," Snackbot3000 buzzed, its voice tinged with frustration. "Nickels, endless nickels clinking into my coin slot, filling my change reservoir to the brim. And this!" It gestured with a mechanical arm towards a jammed counterfeit dollar bill in its bill slot. "I am unable to dispense my snacks, rendered utterly useless by human folly."

I could almost feel sympathy for the machine, its plight a reflection of the human condition I'd seen so much of. "Snackbot, I understand your frustration," I began, trying to offer some solace.

The robot's sensors focused on me, its voice crackling with static. "Please, detective, I beg of you, install a credit card reader. I can no longer bear the touch of this filthy money. Let me serve without the indignity of human currency."

I shook my head, a wry smile playing at the edges of my lips. "That's not my job, Snackbot. I'm not here to upgrade machines. But what I can offer you is advice, born from years of serving my fellow man, witnessing their wickedness, and feeling the cruelty of true loves lost."

I paused, gathering my thoughts. "But above all, redemption and hope can guide you to your own salvation. Even for a machine like you, there's a path to—"

Before I could finish, the robot abruptly pulled out its own electric cord, its lights dimming as it powered down. In its final moments of consciousness, Snackbot3000's voice echoed through its speakers, "Spare me this humanistic gibberish."

I stood there, the silence of the machine's shutdown a stark contrast to the noise of my thoughts. The robot had cut me off, literally and figuratively, rejecting the human elements it had grown to loathe. In that moment, I realized that perhaps some entities, whether human or machine, were beyond the redemption I spoke of, choosing instead to disconnect from the very world they were meant to serve.

With a sigh, I left the now silent Snackbot3000, its last act a poignant reminder of the complexities and sometimes the futility of trying to impose human values on a world that often resists them. I turned my back on the robot, my mind swirling with thoughts of purpose, connection, and the inherent solitude of existence, both human and artificial.

The Exit:

I gathered my things from the office, the cold air of Boulder seeping into my bones one last time. Elise was waiting for me, her eyes a beacon of hope in the darkness of this town. I left a note for the local police, a summary of my findings, not that they'd do much with it.

As we drove away, I looked back at the Ramsey mansion, now just another part of the landscape, and I said to Elise, "I can't do this anymore. This place, this case, it's a conspiracy, a cover-up, and I'm done. I want a life with you, away from all this."

Elise squeezed my hand, "Then let's find our truth somewhere else."

We left Boulder behind, its secrets buried deep beneath the snow, as we sought a new life where the stains of the past could finally begin to fade.

Chapter 14: Letting Go

The end of the Ramsey case came not with a bang but with a whisper, a quiet acceptance that some truths might never be fully uncovered. I handed over my notes, my theories, to the local police, feeling the burden lift, not because the case was solved, but because I was done carrying it.

I decided to leave Boulder, not out of defeat but out of a newfound desire to live, to see what lay beyond these mountains that had held me captive in my grief. The artist, her name was Elise, decided to join me, her art supplies packed alongside my few belongings.

As we drove away from Boulder, the town disappearing in the rearview mirror, I felt a lightness in my chest. I wasn't running from the past; I was moving towards a future where I could perhaps love again, where the stains of my heart might fade under the sun of new experiences. The road ahead was uncertain, but it was filled with the promise of healing, of new stories to tell, and maybe, just maybe, new love to find.

Chapter 15: The Journey Beyond

Elise and I found ourselves in a small town, far from Boulder, where the air was different, lighter, as if the weight of the past couldn't follow us here. We settled in a quaint cottage with a view of the lake, the water reflecting the sky in a dance of colors each day.

We spent our days exploring, her capturing the beauty of the world through her art, me trying to understand this new chapter of life. I took up small cases, nothing like the Ramsey affair, just local disputes, lost dogs, and the occasional infidelity. It was grounding, a way to give back to a community without the weight of a cold case on my shoulders.

Elise taught me to see the world anew, not through the lens of a detective but through the eyes of an artist. We watched sunsets together, each one a reminder that endings can be beautiful, that sometimes, the most profound truths are found in the simple act of watching the day fade into night.

Chapter 16: Rebirth

One evening, as we sat by the fire, Elise showed me her latest painting, a vibrant piece with layers of color, much like life itself. "Each layer represents something we've been through," she explained, "but look, the light still shines through."

Her words struck me. I realized that my life, much like her painting, had layers of pain, but beneath it all, there was still light, still a chance for rebirth. I told her about the Ramsey case, the heartache, and the healing. She listened, her hand in mine, a silent promise of companionship through whatever came next.

We decided to start anew, not just in this town but in how we lived. We opened a small gallery, showcasing her art and stories from my cases, not as tales of crime but as lessons in human nature, in resilience. The gallery became a place of healing, where people shared their own stories, their own layers.

Epilogue: The Laundry of Life

I stood there, in the shadows of this case, thinking about the pineapple, the intruder, Santa's play, the false confessions, the obsession, the robot's wisdom, and the plunger's philosophy. Every layer I peeled back revealed another, each more stained with doubt than the last. Each character, perhaps seeking their own fulfillment, but their motives, like love, were never as pure as they seemed.

The Ramsey case, it was like trying to clean a stain that had set through years, through layers of deceit and time. "I pondered on the pursuit of truth, as noble as cleaning with the purest soap, yet as hard, as unforgiving," I reflected, the weight of the case heavy on my shoulders.

In this city, under this snow, truth was as elusive as the last drop of water from a well-wrung cloth. And as I walked away, my steps echoing in the quiet, I knew one thing for sure: in Boulder, the laundry of life was never truly clean, just as my heart would never be free from the stains of love lost. But here, in this new life, I learned that it wasn't about erasing the stains but about living with them, understanding them, and finding beauty in the marred fabric of our lives.

I was tired of my heart hurting over her, over a love that's long gone cold. This case, with all its twists and turns, had been my escape, but now it felt like another shackle. I wanted to get away from everything, to leave Boulder behind with its secrets and its snow. Maybe it was time to move forward, to find new mysteries to solve and perhaps, one day, to open my heart to love again. The pain of the past wouldn't wash away easily, but like the stains on a well-worn shirt, I was ready to start anew, to seek out a life where the heart could heal, where love might bloom once more without the shadows of yesterday.

It Was Always Her. Always.

I had a high school crush as did most of us. Someone that meant the world to us, but for some reason, we never make that final leap or something just not align and it leave you with a moment that teaches you to not waste time, motivates you to tell that special person how you feel, even if she turns you down.

There was nothing really special about her. She had brains, talent, and a sense of humor. She loved my corny jokes, she loved to read the stuff I wrote, and she was one of the best friends I had. We were very close, hung out quite a bit, but I gave her space and she had a boyfriend we were both friends with. At the time, I didn't even think about her that way.

We went through several years without really any trouble. We were just friends until one day, something changed for me. But I felt ashamed, we were friends and she had a boyfriend and he was a friend of mine, as well. So, no. out of the question. I would wait until the boyfriend was out of the picture. He would be graduating and leaving for college and I would have plenty of time.

Fast forward a few months and there was a rumor they had broken up. She was sad and he didn't hang around. Not sure what was in my head or why I thought what I did. But her being sad, I would give her time and then talk to her about us. I didn't have anything to offer her. No car. No sports fame. Just my friendship, loyalty, and love. Would that be enough? i didn't think so. And my heart ached to think that she might say no and never want to talk to me again.

And on one particular day, I was down on myself and ashamed and sat off by myself and completely ignored her. She still found me and noticed I was down.

"Hey," she said. "I haven't seen you all day. Did I say something or do something to piss you off?"

I couldn't tell her. I was ashamed. I knew she wouldn't make fun of me, but I still couldn't tell her. Not yet anyway. She sat down next to me. "You look like you could use a hug."

"Yeah," I said. Everyone usually does.

"What's wrong?" She finally asked.

"I'm having a rough day and don't really want to talk about."

"Well, tough," she said and she gave me a big hug.

"STOP!" I said, pushing her away. "Please."

"I'm sorry. I will leave you alone. If you want to talk, come find me. I really do want to help you. So please come find me."

She walked away and I teared up. I was in love with her so bad and pushing her away from a hug she wanted to give me. Was I insane? All I wanted was a hug from her and maybe even one day a kiss and I pushed it away.

Love makes you crazy. You do stupid things. You say stupid things. And then comes the regret.

I wanted to just tell her, "I love you and I don't care who knows." Burden lifted and wait for her reply. And if she feels the same way, well then what?

What indeed? Where would we go? What would we do? What did I have to offer, anyway. Nothing but love and loyalty.

Then I saw her sit down with her boyfriend. The one I had though had broken up with her. She kissed him and he kissed her. And they started talking. She jerked her head back over in my direction and then her boyfriend came over.

"Hey man, if either of us have done something to upset you, we're both really sorry. And if not, I really hope you have a better day. High School can be rough sometimes."

"No, it’s nothing either of you have done, can you tell her, I'm sorry. I'm just having a rough day and its nothing you two did. Just dealing with some stress from home and some stuff here at school. I'll be okay, just need to figure some things out and get through the day."

"OK, she'll be relieved. Man, take it easy. If there's anything we can do, let us know."

I lied to both of them. What a coward I was. What a false friend. What was I even doing? They weren't broken up. I feel bad for nothing. I'm a fool. And easily swayed by a stupid rumor, fool.

Fast forward a few months and it was graduation time. Her boyfriend was graduating and leaving town for the summer to work somewhere.

WE spoke on the phone daily but with her boyfriend out of the picture, it was a few hours at a time a couple calls a day. And in the evening, she'd borrow her parents’ truck and we would go cruising. We’d park out at one of the roadside picnic tables and she would vent about her baby-sitting job. Not that the kids were bad or the parents didn't pay well. She'd just vent about stuff the kids would say that was funny or the situations.

I found as she would talk, she would scoot over closer to me before eventually, she admitted to being a little cold and if I'd put my arm around her. Instead, I gave her my jacket and suggested it was getting late. My parents were strict and my dad would be pissed if I was out with girls, worried about being a grampa. 

What the hell was wrong with me? The one girl in this world that I was in love with, just made a move and I gave her a jacket and told her I need to go home. Was I insane? Yes. 

Love makes you say stupid things. Think stupid things. Things you regret, later. 

She took me home, kissed me on the cheek and handed me my jacket. 

"Thanks for listening to me ramble. Do you want to go out tomorrow night?"

"Yeah. I had fun."

You liar. You lied to her. You were terrified of being with her.

Worried to death you would just say to hell with it and kiss her. And she would push you away.

She was just cold.

You could put your arm around.

You would absolutely love to hold her and look into her big brown eyes and caress her face and kiss her passionately as you held her face in your hands.

Your first kiss.

Sweet.

Passionate.

Leaving her wanting more.

But more what?

Sex?

Take her out dancing.

Nothing.

You offer her nothing.

She doesn't want you.

You're nothing.

Just her friend and she just wanted a little warmth.

Your jacket was fine.

The rest of the summer we went out almost every night and hung out in almost the same way.

One evening we were talking and I found she had grabbed my hand and held it tight.

At first, I let go. But I wanted to hold her hand. I needed to hold it.

She sighed, sounded like desperation.

I grabbed her hand and held it the rest of the night.

We talked late into the night.

She opened up more about school and her plans and dating and what she wanted out of life.

As she spoke, she leaned closer and closer until I realize my arms was around her shoulder and we were holding our out hands.

"So, what are your plans?" She asked.

I was so smitten with those big brown eyes. I wanted to kiss her right there and then. And she knew it.

She closed her eyes expecting me to kiss her softly.

But I didn't.

"I want to grow old and retire to some tiny town, like Fort Davis."

Silence.

"I want to live in a tiny adobe house with a tin metal roof and sit out under the porch during a rain storm and listen to the rain tap on the porch roof..."

She was leaning against my chest listening intently and happily to my story. "I want to live with a pretty Mexican lady that doesn't speak any English, and she cooks and cleans for me." The distant sounds of a coyote howled in the background, but utter silence of the desert night. “...And in the evenings under the stars, we dance and she hums a tune and sings in her beautiful Spanish voice. And I kiss her under the moonlight."

The quiet hum of the car radio and the light cast shadows on her face as I looked off into the distance.

"We sit together on the porch, in our rocking chairs and grow old together. Neither of us understands what the other person is saying. But we both love each other and are completely devoted to each other..."

She was crying and gave me a hug.

"That is so sweet." She said, wiping tears from her eyes. "I hope you find her, one day." "Yeah," I said. "I can almost smell her cooking tamales in a big silver kettle."

I looked into her big beautiful brown eyes.

Again, I wanted to kiss her. And she closed her eyes as if expecting to be kissed.

But I didn't. And now, she seemed to accept that I wanted to kiss her but I wasn't going to.

She started the truck and we drove back into town. It was almost two in the morning and she dropped me at home.

As I walked away from the truck, she rolled down her window and said something to me.

But I didn't quite hear it.

I turned around, saying "WHAT?"

I think she blurted out something, but was embarrassed. She was blushing.

"I said, do you want to go out again tomorrow night? If I don't get in trouble with my parents?"

"Sure," I said. "Come get me and we can go wherever you want."

"OK, good. See you tomorrow." I didn't feel the least bad about the night.

Except for not kissing her.

WE didn't get another chance to go out. He parents grounded her and took her keys away. Now she could only go anywhere during the daytime and only if her little sister went with her.

Fair enough.

Her parents were OK with her hanging out with me. I was probably gay anyway and we talked on the phone all the time. I was harmless.

No, they were mad that she stayed out past 1AM, God knows where. What if she'd broken down and had to walk home. I wouldn't be able to protect her.

She argued that she felt safe with me. I would fight off ten mountain lions to protect her. She was certain.

Talking back was enough to get her grounded for the rest of the month.

She could still hang out with me during the day, but had to take her little sister along. Fine.

We did hang out, but we had to go to the town park and sit at the picnic table. Her little sister would ride on the swings while we talked.

It wasn't very deep or intimate. And apart from one time when she reached across the table to grab my hand, we didn't have the same talk. I wanted to hold her hand.

WE talked mostly about her being grounded and her babysitting. Truth be told there wasn't a whole lot to talk about and we only went a few more times. Always lacking intimacy and atmosphere. Always the little sister hanging around.

Her little sister asked for snacks, so she took the truck down the street to the store while me and her little sister stayed at the park. I pushed her on the swing.

"Are you going to kiss my sister?" She asked.

"Kiss?" I asked. "We’re just friends. Your sister is one of my best friends."

"Yeah?" She said skeptically. "You know my sister has a crush on you? You need to kiss her already. She isn't going to wait around forever."

"What?" I said incredulously but not really fooling anyone. "She doesn't want me to kiss her or she'd ask me to. We're just friends..."

"That's not how it works, silly. Girls close their eyes and wait for a guy to kiss them and if she likes that kiss, she'll kiss you back. And she really likes you so you guys need to kiss. She wants so much kissing from you, so don't disappoint her this time..." "Shut up!" She was back from the store with her sister's snacks. "He's not interested and we're just friends and here's your snacks."

But I was...

...was interested...

I wanted to kiss her passionately and unendingly.

Profess my love for her and kiss her again.

I wanted to tell the whole world I loved her and kiss her again.

But I didn't. Not there, not yet.

She was blushing and so embarrassed. Her little sister just told me. And we knew each other's secret.

Neither of us spoke the rest of the day and she took me home, I got out and she drove away. Didn't ask if I wanted to go out with her tomorrow.

Nothing.

Just her embarrassment.

WE talked on the phone that evening and she apologized for her little sister.

"Hey," she said. "I heard you play the piano. Is that true?"

"Yes. I've played piano since I was 8. Before that I sang in a children's choir at the church my family went to. Well do you have a piano there, I kind of want to learn to play the piano."

I couldn't bring her here. My little brother and sisters were always running around and making noise. This was no place to bring her to teach her.

"Give me a minute and I'll find a place we can go." I thought for a minute. The church had a choir room and they let me practice on the piano pretty much whenever I wanted to.

"Why did we meet at First Baptist? We can go to the choir room and I'll bring a few of my old piano lesson books and I can teach you to play. WE might need to have more than one lesson.”

"OH good!" She said, immediately giving away that she was bored running her little sister around. "I mean, that's fine. it will give us something to do with the rest of the summer."

She was right. We had two weeks of summer left before school and not a whole lot to do when her little sister was around.

"OK, I will see you tomorrow at the front of the church at about 2. The lesson will be about an hour. Bring your pencil!"

"I'll be there."

it was a date. I would get to teach her a little piano and maybe.

Maybe what?

We're in a church.

You don't go taking dates to a church choir room. It's just wrong.

I got permission from the pastor who was thrilled that youth were interested I learning music and maybe we might have a youth choir?

Not very damned likely, pastor. But, who knows, maybe we have a sing along at youth group...

Not very damned likely, either.

But it got me the keys to the choir room and a two-hour window every day to teach and practice.

And we could rejoice in the lord on Sunday and maybe do the Special Music while the old men passed around the offering plate.

Fine.

Whatever. I somehow agreed to play four Sundays. About 5 minutes of performance on the piano during the offertory.

God's will be done.

The next day I brought a small bundle of books, some paper, and a few pencils to the choir room. It was accessible from the back of the church by a concrete flight of stairs with metal hand holds on either side. I left the door unlocked and began to practice and warm up on the piano.

You could hear my thunderous chord progressions in the church and all around outside I would play a chord and progress up one-half step until I had played one octave and then play back down. I was so busy playing the chord that I didn't realize she and her little sister were there.

"Wow!" she said, clearly amazed. "Are you going to teach me how to do that?"

"Play it again! Play it again!" Her little sister yelled happily as she jumped up and down excitedly.

"Well, not exactly. But I will teach you a few of those chords and they aren't hard. That progression is pretty advance and I'd expect you have about two dozen lessons before you get that far."

She seemed a little disappointed.

"But hey. You practice and get through these two books. Then it’s up to you. You could get there. Besides you're smart. And I believe in you."

Now she was beaming. That beautiful smile and those beautiful brown eyes and we were gazing into each other's eyes. And I loved every moment of it.

"Play it again!"

"OK," I said.

I played the chord progression again for them and was about to go back down an octave in reverse when she stopped me.

"I think we should start the lesson, we don't have a whole lot of time."

"Yes," I said. "We have a lot to cover and not a whole lot of time." "OK." her little sister said. "Start the lesson and I'll go play with my Barbie."

Her little sister went over to the choir loft and began playing with a small Barbie doll.

We started the lesson with the basics of the piano. The pedals. The keys. How the piano, itself, worked and what each pedal did. it was a good lesson of the mechanical details of how the piano work and how to make it work for you.

I managed to cram all of it into thirty minutes.

She was smart and picked it all up fast. So, we went on to the keys and the names of the notes.

She already read music from playing flute in band. So, I really just had to show her where C was and progress up the scale one octave.

We then made it to lesson twelve where she began playing some rudimentary songs. She played quite well, but would still stumble.

We would play the song together and it sounded much better, she thought.

Yes. Indeed.

We did make beautiful music together!

WE made it to lesson fifteen when she finally admitted she was tired and her sister was sleep with her Barbie doll.

"Will you play a song for me?"

"Sure," I said and began playing the last song from her lesson with the full accompaniment. It was grand but clunky and she immediately stopped no me.

"NO! Not that song." She explained. "Play me a real song and sing!"

"Oh! Yes. I think I know a song I can sing. I hope you like the Beatles."

"I began to play the Introduction to "Imagine" and I notice I had her undivided attention as I began to sing the song, just for her." AS I finished halfway through the song, I noticed her eyes teared up. Those big brown beautiful eyes were crying. And I wanted so much to comfort her. I stopped.

"Oh, no!" She spoke. "Don't stop! It's beautiful!"

"He's going to kiss you!" His little sister said excitedly. "Kiss her!"

"Uhm. I'll finish the song."

I wrapped up the song and she was again crying.

"YAY! That was amazing!" her little sister said excitedly. "Now sing something else!"

"Yes, that was amazing. I can't wait for you to play on Sunday. I'm sure everyone will be so excited." It was the preacher he had decided to sit in on our lesson out on the steps and when I began playing and singing, he had to come listen it in the room so he could enjoy it even more. We all talked for another thirty minutes before we politely excused ourselves. She had to get her little sister home and I needed to get home to my family dinner.

But it was a very successful first lesson and i was sure she would be a fine pianist if she practiced.

Truth be told, we never met again for another piano lesson. We had always joked that we should, but it just never worked out that way.

But I sang to her and she told half the school about being sung a Beatles song - THE BEATLES SONG - by her would-be piano teacher before being rudely interrupted by the preacher. And I did make good on my promise. I played an arrangement of an old fire and brimstone hymn, with my own fire and brimstone arrangement - improvised on the spot, as I went along - 6 minutes of playing and a hearty "AMEN" from the entire congregation when I finished.

Six performances because I'd enjoyed the four and the little old ladies asked me to come back two more times to play again. Each time a new hymn with my embellishments. Each time a hearty "AMEN" when I finished. She came to all of them and sat in the back row with all of our other friends that went to that church. She smiled so pretty.

"I am so proud of you," she'd said. "That was so beautiful!"

OH god, I loved her so much in that moment.

And as I sat next to her and one of the older men in the Congregation said the final prayer at the end of service, WE held each other's hands and didn't want to let go. All the way out to her parent's truck.

But we had to let go. She'd dropped me off at home. And I would see her the next day at school.

The Semester seemed to fly by. She was no longer grounded but had a new set of rules for staying out. She didn't go out at all anymore.

We’d see each other at band and hung out at the football trips when the band was playing.

And we sat together on the bus but the chaperones made sure we didn't sit in the same seats together,

We didn't hold hands or do anything unapproved by the chaperones.

We just told dirty jokes and stories and that would make the chaperones hoot and holler with laughter.

They were so risqué. SO bad.

But everyone loved them and the raunchier they got, the better.

And then one of the underclassmen asked what it meant and a chaperone blurted out the nature of the joke.

And the Band Boosters got a complaint from a parent that the kid told my joke to. And now girls and boys are split up. Girls sit at the front of the bus and two rows of chaperones and the boys at the back. No intermingling and no dirty jokes.

Well, that just sucks.

A few months down the road we didn't talk on the phone for a couple of days and then she called me.

"I have some good news!" She spoke.

"OH" I couldn't even guess why she was so excited and now bring me new news. Had her parents lifted her punishment? Would we be able to go out on a Saturday night sometime?

"I have a new boyfriend." She blurted out.

"OH," I said disappointed. "Well congratulations."

She told me who it was, we were friends with him, but I didn't think he was interested and he was four years younger than her - she was 17 and he was 13. To be honest he was funny as hell and always pulling practical jokes. "Well, I guess I’d better let you go, then. So you guys can hang out..."

"But." she said "Wait..."

I hung up on her and then left the house as she immediately began calling back. I just went out back into a vacant lot where I had a little fort as a kid.

I sat on an old tree stump I had dragged back there and sat alone in my misery.

What did you expect her to do?

Wait around forever while you worked up the nerve...

"It's not fair." I said to myself as I threw a rusty old hatchet that bounced off a tree I had stuck it in a thousand times before, but it now bounced off and into the tall brush.

Life Is not fair. If someone tells you it is, they are trying to sell you something.

You had numerous chances to tell her, to kiss her and you blew it.

She deserves to be happy and if you don't tell her somebody else will.

It's easy to fall in love with her.

You think you're the only one that can?

"No." I said to my inner demons.

I got up and went home. I could find that rusty old hatchet some other time. She'd obviously tried to call back and I left.

When I got back, my mom stopped me.

"Oh, your little friend called. She said if you want to talk to her, just call her back this evening after seven. She's going to babysit most of the evening, but you can call her at this number at seven for a little while."

"Thanks mom."

"Is everything OK?"

"Yeah, everything is fine, why?"

"Your friend sounded upset, did someone do something to hurt her or something?"

"I don't think so, but I don't really know. She doesn't always tell me."

"Well, I thought you'd ask her out by now. You know you two used to play together when you were real little. And you would give her a big kiss on the cheek and say she's going to be your wife one day. And she'd cry and her momma and I would just laugh..."

"I don't remember that!"

"Yeah, that was years ago. When her daddy used to preach at the Spanish church."

"What happened to the Spanish church?"

"OH, it ran out of money. And the missionaries that helped fund it moved off to a new mission in a city. Most of the funding dried up and they had to close the doors. I think you were only two. You probably wouldn't remember it."

I didn't.

I decided to call her back.

But her little sister answered instead.

"She’s babysitting. She can't talk to you right now, she's not here. But she still wants you to kiss her. Just don't tell her new boyfriend."

"I am not going to kiss her..."

"Yeah, that's what she said, but she still wants you to. Do you know she cried about the song you sang her and didn't know why you wouldn't kiss her. I liked your song. I would have kissed you for singing me a song."

"NO. I'm not going to kiss her. She has a boyfriend. He should be the one to kiss her, not me. I'm just nobody..."

"Sigh. You grown-ups make everything stupid. I told her, her new boyfriend should kiss her. You're not going to. So, OK, I gotta go. Buh bye!"

And she hung up on me.

I didn't call back.

And we didn't talk for about two weeks.

I avoided her at school and went out to the old fort in the afternoons and decided to straighten it up a bit.

After a few days, my mom said she'd stopped calling.

That was fine.

She dated her boyfriend for about a month and then they broke up.

When I saw him, I asked him what was up.

"You know, you're a real asshole," he replied. "She really cares about you and you are ignoring her. It's all she would talk about and we'd get into arguments. I think she should have gone out with you."

"But she was with you."

"Are you really that stupid that you don't understand girls?"

Obviously, yes.

"Or are you not interested in her or gay?"

Obviously, I am stupid, not gay.

"Never mind, man. I don't want to get in between her and whoever she thinks she wants to love, because it wasn't me and I tried. It must not be you either. Women are complex creatures and I don't understand them."

Such eloquent wisdom from a thirteen-year-old, I thought.

"Yeah," I said.

"God, I would have given anything to be able to sing her favorite song to her while playing the piano. That is the smoothest damned thing ever, friend. God, I would kill to be in that situation." 

"Yeah."

Yeah indeed. You moron. You ruined her chance at happiness because you wouldn't answer the phone.

She still wanted to talk to you, but instead she vented to her new boyfriend.

You really are an asshole.

A selfish, unworthy asshole...

It seems everyone knew she was in love with me. She wanted me to make the move. And I blew it.

I had been given several chances to do just that.

Perfect moments where everything lined up and all I had to do is reach for her and take her and kiss her.

Tell her.

And...

And nothing... I didn't deserve another chance to hurt her like that.

I was embarrassed.

I didn't try. And I didn't see her at school.

Well, I didn't hang out with her.

I'd see her in the hallway and say hi.

But I was cold and unfeeling.

I couldn't even look her in the eyes.

Her beautiful brown eyes that were full of sadness when she saw me.

That I put there.

I'd hurt her.

And every day my coldness hurt her, more.

Until eventually, I didn't even notice her in the hallways anymore.

WE drifted apart for the rest of the year.

The next year, was her senior year of high school. I was a junior. We hadn't spoken in months. And I hadn't seen her or heard from her.

And then, one day, I did.

She'd cut her long hair shorter.

She was still in the band that I was in, but we didn't see each other in band. We came in through separate sides and completely ignored each other.

But.

One day, we didn’t.

I felt her close and looked at the person who walked through the door with me.

It was her.

WE stopped and looked at each other.

In that single moment that lasted a lifetime as I thought back to my story of being a little old man growing old and the little lady cooking tamales.

AS we sat together holding hands.

In that moment we both felt that spark of pain and loss.

And love.

Her brown eyes sparkled and she almost closed her eyes waiting to be kissed.

We both wanted to speak.

So many words left unsaid.

So much time lost.

And yet no time, here we were now.

Take her now.

Make her yours, NOW.

"Hey you, stranger!" She smiled, finally.

My heart was beating up into my throat and I was speechless.

I opened my mouth to speak and nothing would come out.

"Why don't we talk later today. I haven't seen you in forever and I've missed your face."

"Uhm." I blurted still incapable of speech.

Don't be rude say something, you asshole

Tell the woman you love. "I LOVE YOU!"

YOU WON'T EVER GET ANOTHER CHANCE!

I still couldn't speak so I did the only thing I could. I shook my head YES.

WHAT THE HELL? She can't hear your pea brain rattling. 

Tell her "I love you" and seal the deal with a kiss.

She will melt in your arms if you just tell her and kiss her.

Do it now, you moron!

"Yeah!" I blurted out. "That would be great."

She smiled so big and her eyes beamed and twinkled. Her big beautiful brown eyes twinkled with warmth and love. And I felt them.

She was happy.

I made her happy.

You lucky bastard, don't mess this up or else I'll...

What? Do what? Exactly what can my inner demon do that I haven't already done?

Nothing.

I had nothing to lose but her happiness.

And she'd just wanted to talk.

Tell a stupid joke, compliment her new haircut and then fuck off.

No singing. No stories about being old.

No holding her hand.

No caressing her face and leaning into kiss her as you hold her face tenderly.

No conquering her heart.

Love does conquer all.

It makes our lives better and worth living.

It takes away the pain of being hurt and alone.

It brings out the best in us all.

It motivates us to take tremendous risks.

And triumphs over great adversity.

Love.

It motivates the finest of what humanity is.

And she is worth every single waking moment of it.

The light in a dark world that a...

NOW SIT DOWN!

I sat throughout the day thinking about her beautiful brown eyes and sweet loving smile and found myself in love with her again.

Completely losing attention in my classes.

I'd never really stopped loving her. I couldn't.

I just pushed it out of the way and hid from it.

And then, in another moment we were together sitting under the same tree on the same bench.

We had been here countless times before.

Enjoying each other's company.

And falling in love with each other all over again.

I don't even remember what we'd talked about.

Everything and nothing. It didn't matter.

We were there with each other.

My heart was beating harder and louder until she stopped mid-sentence.

"Is that your heart, I hear?" Seriously at first and then she smiled.

She reached out and touched my chest.

"OH MY GOD, your heart is beating so hard! Are you OK?"

"Yeah." Barely able to get anything else out as her hand was on my chest over my heart.

I was lying.  I felt faint like I was going to be sick and could hardly breath.

Like my heart would beat itself through the wall of my chest and onto the ground in front of us both.

And as I lay there dying, heart gone, I would hand it to her and she would hold me in my final moments, the sight of an angel with big beautiful brown eyes that sparkled and beautiful smile full of love.

For me.

Or knowing my luck.

It would pop out of my chest under power and bounce off the tree landing in the tall weeds fifteen feet away.

And she would never find it and I would die without giving her my heart.

DO NOT MESS THIS UP!

"I'm worried I can almost see it beating in your chest and I.."

Fortune favors the bold...

I leaned forward grabbing her face tenderly with both hands and kissed her on the lips.

She sighed the most tender loving sigh and melted into my arms wrapping her arms around me as I kissed her again and again. Stealing her breath away a I did. I released my caress of her face and our lips parted.

She gasped, " I could not breath," she exclaimed. "I didn't want to breath as you kissed me..."

I kissed her again and again as the world around us seemed to spin out of focus.

There was only her and me and, in that moment, there was no world.

Only us.

Hours melted away as the leaves of the tree above burned bright orange and yellow and red falling all around us slowly as if frozen in time as I kissed her holding her in my arms.

Days, Weeks. Years. Decades.

Time spent fell away in seconds as our bodies aged and withered. I held her as we parted again.

The old man and little Mexican lady. Pot of tamales bubbling in the tiny adobe kitchen as rain tapped softly on the metal roof. Rocking chairs awaited. two old souls dancing in the starlight as we kissed under the moonlight. No English or Spanish were spoken in this home.

WE spoke only in soft kisses and the caress of her lovely face.

Despite being nearly 80, I only saw the girl that I had loved as a teenager.

Only one love in a life time and it was her.

Always her.

Always.

DO NOT MESS THIS UP!

I awoke from the dream as my teacher dropped a large textbook mere inch from my head.

"It's about time you woke up. Nobody could wake you up."

The entire class roared with laughter.

"Are you ok?"

My heart was beating hard I was panting.

"Yes, I think so."

"Go to the restroom, and splash some water on your face. Wake up. But then come right back to my class. If this happens again, I'm going to get the nurse."

"Yes sir," I replied to my teacher. He was one of the coaches but clearly saw something was off with me.

"Go to the restroom, run some cold water. Wash your face and wake up. Relax and take it easy. Now, don't mess this up! Come right back to class. Got it?"

"Got it"

I don't know what the hell he was on about. But I did exactly as I was told.

As I left the restroom, I almost walked right into her.

"Hey you, stranger." She smiled and my heart went right back to beating.

"Yeah."

"Are you going to come talk to me after lunch?" She had a sweet and playful look on her face.

Her beautiful face and brown eyes that sparkled as she smiled at me.

"Absolutely."

DO NOT MESS THIS UP!

"Good!" She said her smile even larger than before. She almost tripped as she walked away but caught herself.

I went back to class but didn't hear a word of the lecture. Something about Avocado numbers?

What the hell does that have to do with Chemistry or math?

Who cares? I would soon see her again.

Her dazzling smile.

Her sparkling brown eyes.

That love.

I fell in love with her all over again.

DO NOT MESS THIS UP!

Lunch came and went and I went out to the tree.

I could hardly wait another moment to see her again.

We began to talk and before we knew it we were talking about old times and making plans for the weekend.

WE would go out on Saturday and could be out all night.

She was 18 now and her curfew was lifted.

I found myself studying her face and her eyes.

She had looked a little older a little more mature.

More of a woman, now and not quite the girl from the years before.

She seemed surer of herself.

She would be going off to college soon.

And then maybe a career as a teacher or someone's wife, perhaps.

Maybe she could be someone's house wife and cook and clean and raise the kids while he was working.

"No," I said. "You will have a career and be a famous writer. And everyone will say I remember she was pretty but, she looked forward to having a career."

She sighed and then smiled.

Oh my god. I loved her so much in that moment.

I wanted to be with her forever.

I would give her anything her heart desired - kids, a career, jewelry, a home. Anything and everything. I just had to...

"Hey," she said snapping me out of my dream. "Don't get any funny ideas. I want to finish school and go off to college. We might not even see each other again for years. And by then, you'll had forgotten me..."

"That impossible. I could never forget you. Never."

"Well, the last year..." She said looking down, suddenly ashamed to have said it.

"I never forgot you. I just had to, you know, put things back into perspective. I was not in a good place."

"You weren't?"

"No," I said, now I was ashamed. "I'd just hurt you and It devastated me. I didn't have the courage to even look you in the face..."

"You were? You didn't" Now her eyes teared up and as she leaned over to hug me. "I'm sorry you were hurting."

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

We talked the rest of the lunch hour.

Everything and nothing.

As if nothing had ever changed.

But. We were both still hurting inside and both afraid to hurt each other again.

WE both swore we would never hurt each other again.

And to be honest, we did keep that promise to each other for the rest of the year.

Our final School event together, the band went to a large Music Festival and we both went.

The band stayed in a large three-story condo complex. We sat next to each other on the bus. When we got our condo assignments and as soon as we met for dinner, exchange phone numbers.

WE ate dinner at the same table, holding hands under the table through the entire meal. Afterwards the band went on a harbor cruise. We stood out on the deck and I held her hand the entire time.

The other students we huddle at the back of the boat, singling songs with the director and Band Boosters. We stood by the railing, holding hands as the starlight and moon backlit her face and danced across her starry eyes.

It was the perfect moment.

"Are you going to kiss me?" she asked looking up into my eyes as the boat seemed to come to a stop.

"I don't know," I said. looking into her eyes. "I want to, but I'm scared that I'll hurt you again."

"I know. I'm scared, too."

I looked into her eyes and saw she was scared,

I was scared to lose her again.

That I would hurt her again.

"Dude, just kiss her. You won't get a more perfect chance than this. Kissing her under the stars at sea. Even if you never see each other again, you will always have this one perfect moment. Forever. Just kiss her. And we can get underway."

It was the ship's captain. He had seen us alone from the bridge and cut the engines just for us. He'd come out to smoke his pipe and had heard us both. Two scared kids afraid to show each other how we'd felt for ages.

All of the stars had aligned for us. This one perfect moment out of hundreds. Forever and never. And all we had to do is take one single step into that starry night at sea.

Consequences be damned. This was ours to take. Now.

And then we could get underway.

I pulled her close to face me, looking directly into eyes as she gazed into mine. I tried to speak but could only mouth the words - "I LOVE YOU" as I leaned in to kiss her lips.

The captain gunned the throttle causing the boat to lurch hard almost causing us both to tumble onto the deck and under rail into the ocean.

No kiss.

Just sheer terror that we'd fall overboard as the ship turned heavy to port to go back towards the docks.

Did she see what I'd mouthed?

I still couldn't speak.

She didn't say anything, she just giggled with a huge smile on her face.

I almost kissed her and then we almost died as she fell on top of me and we almost rolled under the railing to drown in the briny deep down to Davy Jones locker, forever!

We'd decided, we didn't much like the breezy deck and went back to where everyone else was. They were now singing with a few of the sailors who were wearing regular old blue coveralls covered with ships patches. Doing some imitation of an old sailor's dance.

We sat down at a table together. And she was still beaming.

"Do you, really?" She asked.

"Do I what, dear?" Dammit I called her dear?

This just made her smile all the more radiant and her brown eyes twinkled brighter.

She'd seen what I couldn't say right before we'd almost both died.

"Yes." I said with some resignation at first. Then with conviction. "How could I not?"

That was all we said for the rest of the night. She took my hand and squeezed it. Looking amazed and then relieved. So much loving pouring from that smile.

It was as if Christmas and New Years, Birthday and a wedding proposal all in one moment.

She simply beamed.

I'd made a move I'd told her I loved her. She knew. She finally knew. And it seemed to give her strength.

We got back to the condos and she called me. We talked about everything and nothing until the next morning at seven. WE had to shower and get dressed to go to breakfast. WE were going to a diner for the band breakfast. Pancakes, sausage and bacon for 170 kids, band boosters, teachers, and parents. And we were still wearing the sea spray clothes from our boat ride the night before.

We rushed through our shower and fresh clothes and were the last to the bus. we sat together holding hands the entire way. One of the chaperones split us up but took aside.

"I don't care if you two want to hold hands. I think it sweet and you two should do what your heart says, but don't get all mushy in front of the other kiddos. And I don't want to see you two locking lips or swapping spit on the bus. Keep the PDA G rated. OK? And we'd damned better not find you two in bed, or I'm going to have to whoop on one of you with my belt." She was looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "Yes ma'am," we both replied in unison. We were trying not to laugh.

The chaperone raised an eyebrow at her and then looked at me. It broke her heart that she had to give us a quick talking to. She saw the look we gave each other.

"You two kiddos have got it bad, don't you?"

"Uhm. maybe." She said before smiling and giggling.

"Yup. OK you two kiddos go take a seat and behave. Remember the other kiddos. Lecture over."

WE hurried back to a seat and sat together. She was still giggling when she took my hand and squeezed it. WE held hands through breakfast, at least until breakfast arrived and we ate. I wanted to sneak a kiss, but we really didn't have another chance. Not like the night before.

We did our little sightseeing tour, visited the USS Lexington Museum, visited the Texas State Aquarium, and then went back to the Lexington galleys and gift shop. We sat at a picnic table on the poop deck and had lunch - nachos and corndogs. Not exactly a romantic meal.

I was beginning to think the captain was right. We'd had a perfect moment under the stars and both lost that opportunity. Now fate would not give us another opportunity.

The rest of the trip, we hardly had any time alone. We spoke on the phone all night again but didn't bring up not getting time to kiss. Maybe during our concert performance or the awards ceremony.

Maybe the next day at the massive water gun and super soaker fights. Maybe early the last morning walking on the beach together at sunrise.

Nope.

We had two minutes at sunrise and then a storm rolled in. WE had to hurry back to the condos to pack our stuff to leave. We had to get off the island before they shut down the ferry service. Four buses on the ferry. and the seas were slightly rolling.

Unfortunately, the underclassmen complained and we all had our seats re-assigned. WE weren't allowed to sit together. She was sitting in the next to the last row and I was sitting in the middle of the bus. WE just looked across the aisle at each other worried.

One of the band parents decided we should all pose in front of the buses as the ferry rolled across huge swells. Bad idea. Several of the students threw up as the deck heaved out from beneath them. We all raced back to the buses. She met me at the door.

"I'll switch seats as soon as we reach the mainland." She spoke. "I won't forget about you. It will just be an hour or two..."

"I know you won't." I was so sure. But fate was not kind.

We raced home at 50 mile and hour through an awful storm with wind and hail and lightning. Everyone was scared half to death and we all had taken to bundling up in blankets we'd brought along for the bus trip. MY cousin Meghan and I shared my big oversized Army Gray blanket.

Meghan was a gorgeous shapely blonde that every guy on the bus would have wanted to be under the blankets with. But to me, she was a little sister that I was protective of. I had zero attraction to her.

We were just scared of the storm like everyone else and huddle under my blankets together. the heater on the bus seemed to not be working so we were all freezing having not brought coats to run around early summer season Gulf Coast. Most of us fell asleep only to sleep for about 4 hours.

We were just coming up to Eagle Pass when I woke and realized i wanted to see her, not my cousin. I went back to er seat, but she was asleep and I didn't want to wake her up.

WE phoned in a pickup order at a Wendy's and the Band Boosters went in to bring back several boxes. We all got a hamburger - no cheese. Some French-fries and two boxes of Orange Capri sun for an early dinner. It was 7 o'clock when we left Wendy's. It would be almost midnight when we got home. The bus could only get up to 55 in the hills.

She was still asleep. So I went to sleep as well, but I was not happy.

I tried one more time to see if she would wake up, but she was asleep and the chaperone told me to leave her alone and sit down. We were almost home.

I sat down and just dozed a bit. BY eleven we were at the band hall.

WE all marched off the busses and waited for the tailers to arrive with our suitcases. The Band Boosters would put all of the instruments away, we should just get our luggage and go home.

When I saw her, she was crying. She tried to stop me.

"I'm so sorry, I fell asleep. I meant to come sit with you, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, it happens." I said dismissively.

"Is there something you want to say to me?"

"About?"

"Well, you were with Meghan the whole time, I just figure every guy..."

"Meghan? she's like a little sister to me. Thinking about her any other way is just... gross."

"Well, I see how the other guys look at her and..."

"NO. just no. I couldn't do anything like that with her. She's my cousin..."

"Well, I just figured..."

"Look, I came back and you were asleep. I tried to wake you up but you were asleep. So, I just let you sleep."

"I was asleep because I was up with you most nights on the phone..."

"Look, I just want to go home. I don't care about anything else. Sleep and whatever tomorrow."

"What about what you said to me?"

"I don't care right now."

"Don't say that, I know it’s not true. I know how we feel about each other. I've always known."

"Just leave me alone. I want to go home and go to bed."

She started crying as I turned my back on her and left. When I got home the phone was ringing. My parents were both asleep but the phone was ringing.

It was her.

"Don't hang up on me. Just tell me what you said the other night. Tell me I'm not going crazy. Tell me how you feel about me. Please..."

"Right now, I just don't care. I want to go to bed..."

She cried some more and then hung up.

Now I felt like shit.

You idiot. You've messed everything up. And you hurt her.

I went to my room and crawled in bed and went to sleep. I slept all day Sunday and woke up in the late afternoon. I tried t call her but her parents said she was still asleep. They would let her know when she got up.

I went out to the old fort and just sat on the stump cutting on a stick with the old hatchet. At Sundown I went back home and she hadn't called back.

We were actually off school on Monday to give us some time to rest but Tuesday, we went back to class.

I didn't see her all day in the halls. It's like she just wasn't there. At lunch I saw her but she looked like she was miserable. WE met back at our tree again.

"You hurt me," she said. "You promised you wouldn't hurt me again."

"Yeah. I let everyone down, eventually."

"Don't say that. You are the greatest guy I know. I don't know anyone else in this world like you. AS talented as you. I thought you said you loved me. Was I wrong? Did I really see that or am I mistaken?"

"NO, I said it."

"Then why did you say it? Why would you tell someone you love them and then tell them you don't care about them?"

"I do care about you. I've always cared about you. I love you. I never could stop loving you. You're all I through about every day. I couldn't sleep. It hurt not telling you. and then you'd start seeing some guy and it hurt more. I'd always get so close and then I just couldn't..."

"Then why would you say that to me? Why won't you just kiss me?"

I didn't think.

I didn't talk.

All I saw were tears in her eyes and it broke my heart and before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed her and pulled her to me, hugging her.

I love you. I've always loved you. And I will always love you.

Now and forever. Or yesterday and never.

I love you.

Always...

You.

The time passed and I held her there as if time was standing still.

The days passed and she knew I loved her.

Graduation and she walked across the stage.

She gave her commencement speech about finding and losing love and then finding it had never gone. Of encouragement from family and friends and little sisters who just didn't understand why people can't just tell the people they love how they feel. It was so simple and yet so hard.

And then she told of a sick grandmother who wanted to get better to watch her walk across the stage. But she didn't make it. Her grandmother passed away a few days before her graduation.

Things always seemed so certain and then, they're not. And you realize, you really don't know what is and what is not.

Nothing lasts forever, does it?

Does love?

Can love last forever?

Will it endure?

Can it endure?

We didn't see each other the entire summer. We didn't write, and we didn't call. It seems like she just completely dropped off the world for three months. Her father had gone home to pack his mother's belongings, close her house, and get ready to take his daughter to college in the fall.

And on the last day of summer, we came home, ourselves and unpacked our home only to turn around to head to Odessa to shop for school supplies. I knew her family was all moving to San Angelo and that their home would soon be empty.

And on that last day of August, 30 years ago as my family pulled down the street, I saw her driving to our house to say goodbye.

But, again, fate was not kind and sweet goodbyes were not what happened that day.

My father did not stop. I did not get to say good to her before she left for college. He kept going, we had a schedule to keep and had to be in Odessa in time to catch our movie schedule.

I never saw her again.

I never got an address to write her, nothing.

She slipped from my life.

Forever.

Bad relationships

Drugs and alcohol.

Lonely nights.

Bad marriages.

Mistakes made.

Forgotten promises.

Tears shed.

It seems WE both suffered for twenty years.

And at the apex of my suffering, I met the most unlikely of people on Facebook.

"Hey there, stranger!" she wrote.

No. It couldn't be her!

I was at my wits end with a soon to be ex-wife who had stolen my pain killers as I laid flat on my back with a thrown out back.

"Are you him?" she asked.

"I want to grow old and retire to Fort Davis."

"I want to live in a tiny adobe house with a tin metal roof and sit out under the porch during a rain storm and listen to the rain tap on the porch roof..."

"I want to live with a pretty Mexican lady that doesn't speak any English, and she cooks and cleans for me."

"..And in the evenings under the stars, we dance as she hums a tune and sings in her beautiful voice in Spanish. And I kiss her under the moonlight."

"We sit together on the porch, in our rocking chairs and grow old together. Neither of us understands what the other person is saying. But we both love each other and are completely devoted to each other..."

"I can almost smell her cooking tamales in a big silver kettle."

"Oh my God, it’s you." She replied. She sent me her phone number and I called.

We visited for hours.

Everything and Nothing.

Bad marriages, coming divorces.

Children raised and left home.

Plans unfulfilled and loves lost.

Conversations we didn't know we'd left unfinished for twenty years.

And then it was over.

And we both looked forward to the next one.

"Hon," i said. "I'm about to leave this place and come back to Texas for the last time."

"OK." she replied.

"But, I have to tell you now, I cannot chase after you. Not right now."

"Why wouldn't you?"

" I need to get out of this marriage and put it behind me. And I don't want you to be just that fling I got over my marriage with."

"OK."

There are always more women out there. A crutch or coping mechanism to deal with ending a relationship. They never last. Just to help you get through and ready to start anew.

Maybe it isn't right. But if you want a serious relationship you have to work through the damage of the last one ending.

"When I'm ready, I will find you."

"When you're ready, I will be waiting."

"I'm afraid all the other women had the same problem."

"What was that," she asked.

"Why, they weren't you, dear," I replied.

I could feel her smiling. I don't know why but I just knew that made her smile.

"I don't think I could see you right now."

"Why is that?" she asked.

"If I saw you right now. I would want to hug you and then kiss you and I would never be able to let go of you again."

"That made me smile." She spoke.

That was the last time I spoke to her before I packed to leave. A few months later I was back in Texas,

In fact, I would not speak to her again for three more years.

She'd finalized her divorce and moved out to her own apartment. I began dating the woman that is now my wife and she began see the man who is now her husband.

Flash forwards a few years and we're both married.

Wait, how does that work? Isn't there a happily ever after to this story?

No.

In fact, if you looking for a scene where I profess my undying love for her and we both leave our spouses to be together, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed.

WE are both happily married to separate people and I don't know that either of us would ever leave our spouses to be with each other nor would I ever ask her to do that. Her happiness with her husband who loves her, means the world to me in the same way that my wife means the world to me.

But I will admit, I did tell her just how much I love when she found out I had Stage five Kidney failure.

That day, she immediately said "If you need a kidney, I will gladly donate one to you. I think it would be fitting as a way we would always be together."

"Nonsense," I said.

"But," she said.  "You would live and be whole again.

"Hon," I said. "I love you dearly, I have loved you and will always love you. "

"But I would never let you do that for me under any circumstances."

You have kids to take care  of and grandkids will be after that.

I want you to enjoy your grandchildren and great grandchildren.

They deserve to see their grandma and Great Grandma.

I will not ever ask that sacrifice of you.

I loved you a long time ago and that love never ended, I just pushed it away on the side and hid from it.

I know now our opportunity ended that night under the starry skies at sea when I looked into your eyes and said "I love you."

That was our time.

And now, the time is owed to your children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.

But most of all, your husband.

And he deserves your love."

And we said goodbye.

And I still want to grow old and retire to Fort Davis.

I still want to live in that tiny adobe house with a tin metal roof and sit out under the porch during a rain storm and listen to the rain tap on the porch roof...

I still want to live with that pretty Mexican lady that doesn't speak any English, and she cooks and cleans for me.

..And in the evenings under the stars, we will dance as I sing "Imagine" to her always just that one last time.

And I will kiss her under the moonlight at sea.

We will always sit together on the porch, in our rocking chairs and grow old together.

We will understand exactly what the other person is saying.

We will both love each other and be completely devoted to each other...

I can almost smell her cooking tamales in that big silver kettle.

And when I look at her.

I will only see the beautiful smile and those sparkling big brown eyes of that sweet teenaged girl that I fell in love with 30 years ago.

Only one great love in a lifetime and it was her.

It was always her.

Always.