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THE WORLD STILL TURNS. The seasons still come and the seasons still go. Autumn changes the color of the leaves and with winter comes the cold and the snow. In spring, the world cheers at the sight of blossoming flowers and new beginnings. And then, in summer, laughter fills and lingers in the air. The world still turns.
The streets are filled with the sounds of cars making their way down the roads, and the voices of people on city pavements still echo in the distance. Children are still born each day. Lovers fall in love and lovers fall out of love, every single day. Death comes for those whose time is up, but the world still turns. Mornings still come with each new sunrise, and the darkness covers the universe with each sunset.
The world awakes, the world goes to sleep, and the world still turns. But hers doesn’t. Her world stood still a long time ago.
It no longer turns. It has kept her trapped in a kind of a limbo she can’t get out of; one she just can’t escape from. Everything around her changes, yet nothing is different. Her world stood still. Her life has been rocked and her heart is shattered. But, for the rest there is not even a slight indication from the universe that something has changed; something so important to someone so much lesser has been lost.
There is nothing to tell her that his leaving has somehow impacted the world, shoved it off-course or shook it slightly off its track. Like it did her. Like it shoved her to the ground, and kept her there. There is nothing to tell her that he was important to this world, to this life, and to her heart. Yet, while the world forgets him, she searches for him at the break of each day, and at the last light of each night. She looks for him between the walls of the home he once lived in. She traces the footprints of a life he once existed so profoundly in.
She follows the trails he once took on the city streets, and she continues all the way down to the dirt roads he once found solace in. She retraces the paths he took to the beach, and she follows his tracks to the forest. She looks for him. She keeps looking for him. She still looks for him. She tries to find him in crowds. She hunts for proof that he was once real. She clings to photographs, and she holds onto the memory of him. She doesn’t want the world to forget. She doesn’t want to forget. And still, the world turns without him. She so wishes it didn’t.
