She sat on the roof of her school house one evening, looking at the sunset. The hills of red dirt, pine woods, the distant mountains—-silhouetted against a blood-red sky.
Silhouettes of people walked by—-the Chief of Police drove by…and then a little girl came carrying a big stick—kicking up so much dust, and singing a song, softly—“Women will overcome…some day!”
The June breeze shifted and tangled her hair. She was homesick and longed to go sailing at Cape Cod. She wanted to read books again, to ponder again. She was tired, she wanted to look a man in his face again and not hate his guts.
But these were melancholy thoughts of course. Perhaps she should ride a train around the world, exclaiming it was passion that ruled. At college they told her a lie. What could they teach her about life? She had to experience it, herself!
The rest of her classmates had gone back home, but there was still work to be done. She must carry on her struggle for freedom, now!
A little boy walked by, picking up bottle-caps as he moved along. She had seen so many little boys like him; and then she thought about me.
Since I left, there was no day when she had not thought of me; especially when she was alone, on a roof-top, looking at the sun.
Her memory of me came back more strongly than ever before. It was absurd of course, and yet….she remembered my laughter, my words, a phrase, an inflection, soft music of my voice that floated on the breeze. She loved me deeply, and when I left, the door to her heart closed shut.
But here on this roof-top, each of her thoughts began melting into the next one…as she remembered me with her; listening, rejoicing, consoling, advising, tempering, laughing, loving—-Darling! Darling! Darling…!