Charles walked out the front door to the porch, same as he had done for the past forty-five years. The tray was a bit heavy, holding the new tea they had found last week. It was exotic and reminded them of their trip to Burma. The one they almost did not go to because Charles was running late and Frank had to hold the flight. Toast from bread he had made last night with homemade apricot marmalade. Apricot was Frank’s favorite but Charles would not let him have his special homemade kind until they brought the house together, so Frank waited. The honey from Ms Jean’s farm down the road was Frank’s favorite and she made it especially for them. You could taste the hints of jasmine and lavender, which were Frank’s favorite scents, every spring Charles would fill the house with the freshly picked blooms, but he had to wait till the end of the season to get the honey. This in turn caused Frank to have to wait, but he did not mind.
Charles sat the tray down in front Frank who was preoccupied reading the foreign politics section of the paper. Charles did not care for foreign politics; he was more concerned about what was going on down the street and around the corner. He spread the marmalade on the toast as he had done for the past forty-five years and handed a piece to Frank. Frank put the paper aside as the aroma became more pressing than any over sea matter. Little Linda whom was no longer little passed by, waving and walking her dog, on schedule as she had done ever since she moved back into the neighborhood. They both smiled and waved back; she had grown into a fine young woman with a matching husband and family.
Frank poured the hot water over the tea for Charles and for himself, put just the right amount of honey and stirred both cups. Before taking one sip he said to Charles,
“I love you.”
Charles woke up smiling, he had dosed off again with Linda sitting there. She did not want to wake him but she saw that he had awakened with that smile, she knew what he had dreamt of and asked,
“it was the same dream?”
Beaming, Charles responded, “Yes it was.”
She stroked her round belly as the baby kicked inside her and spoke again.
“Don’t they make you sad?”
Charles spread the apricot marmalade on the toast and he handed her a piece.
“No. I had more with him than most ever have with anyone.
“Don’t you miss him though?”
“Sometimes, but he reminds me he’s not gone. He’s always with me.” Charles then smiled another beaming smile as he put some honey in his tea.
“I know he’s just waiting.”
©Christopher F. Brown 2012
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