“Meadow”

by Avery Riggsbee

The Meadow is illuminated by the soft glow of morning light. The Sun has risen, but she

will not rise any higher. In fact, she won’t ever rise again. 

The grass is soft, dew clings to my thighs. The moisture has made its way through the

cotton of my socks; it’s making my feet cold. Despite the warmth and humidity of this place, the

water is numbing. 

Up in the sky, the Sun is not alone. She seems to be in the company of a friend. Perhaps

it’s a comet. Her friend dances around to a melody outside of this realm. 

I miss my friend. 

“I’m right here,” she says, reading my mind. 

“Oh, good.” I’m surprised by my neutral tone. 

For a few moments, we sit in silence. Even though she’s here, sitting right next to me, it

feels just as unreal as her absence on Earth.

“How do you like it here?” she asks, studying me.

“It’s nice. A little confusing, though.” I study her back. 

She looks essentially the same, although there’s a light in her eyes now and her once

concerning dark circles are  gone. She looks happy. This is what she was supposed to look like

back home. 

“Yeah, I like it too. But if I’m being honest, it wouldn’t be my first choice.” She smiles.

It's a real smile, one that radiates joy. 

I wish her parents could see this. 

“Are you happy?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. 

“Very. I really miss you, though.” She rests her head on me, a waterfall of purple hair

cascading down my shoulder.  

My eyes brim with tears. 

“That’s good,” I whisper, quietly. 

My eyes shut. As soon as they close, they’re open again. 

Now, I’m back in my bed, the one we shared during countless sleepovers, and I’m

holding the gift I never had time to give her.