There is a place in Edmonton,
Where the veil of death and rebirth in my human journey is at it’s thinnest.
You would never know,
Ordinary and basic,
A main road with residential views.
A lifeline to central city hubs.
Yet for me, I freeze as I get closer to it,
I can feel my nervous system begin to shutter.
The setting of a father and son,
Laid to ash.
A teenagers runaway to performing arts,
Is medical jargon, grey, loud fluorescent lights.
Empty sympathy wishes, beeping sounds, ventilators.
Is color, grit, summer festivals and dancing on lit stages.
Music lessons, acting lessons, dreams taking flight.
I decided to return to this place,
(“I was just in the neighbourhood.”)
In a blizzard setting, I parked my car on a side street and walked to the point of nostalgia.
Shivering but determined, I walked through the snow until I found myself “there”.
In my right hand,
I had a single red rose,
I’m not sure who it was for?
The father –
The son –
Or the daughter who was left behind to endure.
I place the red rose down,
Laying it to rest,
I, and the snow.
It was time.
So damn cold.
I took a big deep breath in,
Slowly at first,
Getting into my car,
Igniting the engine.
I pull into the main street.
In my line of vision,
I see the two paths,
I feel the two paths.
Aware at what’s at stake.
But with Intuition loudly screaming,
There was no decision to make.
I have the option to go left.
I go right.
And at peace-
I go right.
(And I never looked back again.)
Model Credit: Brittiany G / Instagram: britts_littleadventures
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