A God I Knew

The narrator hears them in everything.

A God I Knew

Outside, I feel a slight nip in the air. I wheel a large metal cart to a pile of logs, I had been gathering them for the coming cold front. Every stick and bump I roll over jostles the cart in my hands. I duck under the clothes wire and open the fence gate, pushing the cart through. Leaning down again to push the cart under a hanging electric wire, I step over some stray gutter pieces. 

The wind picks up, blowing through my hair. 

My hand grabs at my chest as my heart starts to ache painfully. Tears well in my eyes as I feel a deep, overwhelming sadness take over me. Stumbling, I collapse to my knees, gripping the cart handle tightly as a lifeline. 

The wind blows harder, swirling around me. I look up at that wide open sky, wispy clouds in the distance. Then I hear a whisper.

I think it’s the wind at first, but it grows stronger in my ear. I haven’t heard that voice in years, but at the same time, it’s something I’ve never heard before. 

“I love you.”

I sob, fully collapsing into the dirt, my hands on my face as I try to hide my tears. Why now? I think to myself. Why do you tell me that now, when I can’t even respond?

I begin to kneel, staring up at the blue sky, I clasp my hands together like I’m praying to god. I am praying, praying to the only god I know. 

“Micah?” I whisper. 

There’s no response. My heart squeezes in my chest.

The wind swirls again, the grass flows like waves in the breeze. 

“I love you.” He whispers again.

I can’t do this, I think to myself. I stand, wiping my tears and I rush inside. Forgetting the cart and the logs. My chest aches.