Prompt 3 of 31

(Stupid holidays and the preparation for them. I got sidetracked cleaning my house and then actually celebrating the fourth that I haven't posted. I'll be playing catch up today.)

The Writer's Book of Matches pg. 121 "An old man returns to the tree in which he carved the initials of his long lost childhood sweetheart."

Gerald Whaley leaned heavy on his cane as he traversed the rough dirt path to the field. His mission was to reach the tree where he had carved the initials of he and his high school love, Tabitha Green. The satchel slung over his left shoulder weighed him down and made the journey harder than it would have been even if it didn't exist. But the trip would have been worthless if he hadn't brought it, so he took it in small careful stride.

Everything looks nothing alike, he thought to himself. His cloudy aged eyes looked up, when he felt it safe too, from the road and around him. None of it was familiar. It amazed him still, even after his eighty years of life, how the world, nature, was so liquid. It changed so quick and drastically. Even when he pulled up in his beat up Toyota Tercel he wasn't sure that he had gone to the right dirt parking lot off of the highway. But he was certain it had to be. The landscape may easily deceive him but his mind did not. That was still as spry and wary as it had been when he had carved those initials. It was his body that had turned against him.

He stopped at the edge of a rickety bridge, that crossed over a trickling creek. Below it was brambles and sharp stones that jutted up through the creek bed like teeth. He took a breather and judged the safety of the passageway.

"I don't know about this," he mumbled to himself. He opened his mouth and scratched his cheek with his free hand.

Gerald followed the path on the other side of the bridge. It wound behind the hill out of sight. But atop that hill, only a short distance away, was the tree.

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(start time: 9:57, 7/7/13)

"Not far now," Gerald said to himself.

He grabbed ahold of the single banister on the bridge. Luckily it was his left and with the assistance of his cane he traversed the obstacle. When he got to the other side he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. With one look back at the bridge he smiled and continued on the path to the tree.

He set his satchel down immediately. The weight had begun to get the best of him. Without it he moved with a new energy and traipsed around the trunk, his hands feeling along the rough bark. He had gone almost entirely around when he found it. It was higher than he had remembered but there it was. The initials wrapped tightly in a heart. HIs index finger traced the letters and border, and he smiled.

His mind whirled to life from the memory. He closed his eyes and was instantly transported back to the moment he and Tabitha had lain together beneath this tree and became one. It had been his first time, although he never mustered the courage to ask the same of her. He just wanted to assume that it was.

In the final moment of their passion Tabitha screamed out that she loved him and Gerald just remained silent. It had been awkward when they had dressed, and even more so on the ride home.

Gerald opened his cloudy eyes. Tears began to form beneath the powder blue of his irises.

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. He was going to undo that mistake. The beginning of all the missed chances in his life. He loved his children but their mother had been a witch he was expected to marry. The only thing she had taught him was that everything could be undone with life. You just had to make the sacrifice.

Gerald turned and leaned against the trunk. Using both hands he guided himself until his rear rested on the earth. He caught his breath that had fled in the struggle and grabbed the satchel. He flipped open the leather flap, retrieved the book from within, and tossed the bag aside.

"No going back," he told himself.

He opened it up and found the proper spell. He had followed all of the instructions thus far, remember. Now he just had to pay the debt. He reached into his pocket for his knife and followed the second step of the instructions, he slit his wrist horizontally and vertically on his palm.

Gerald held his head back and made sure his hand found the etching.

Looking down he read the words.

At first there was nothing. He just felt the warm blood running down his arm and wrapping around to pool at the crook of his neck and shoulder; his body grew weak.

He read the words again slower, enunciating each syllable.

Nothing.

His heart began race. Had he made a mistake, he kept thinking. But he began to realize even if he had he didn't care. He was where he had been the most happy.

He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the tree, and remembered. Everything once again alive to him. The sounds of the cicadae, the summer breeze brushing against his sweaty skin, the smell of the blooming flowers on the hill. He could hear the soft breaths of Tabitha.

Opening his eyes he was back.

He pushed himself up and looked around.

"What's the matter?" Tabitha said.

He looked at her from behind his circular glasses. her naked form laying seductively on the striped blanket.

"I-" he said trying to find the words for his joy.

Then he did the only thing he wanted. He leaned in and kissed her with all the passion that had been held back behind the societal façade.

She playfully pushed him back.

"Where did that come from?" she said, laughing.