The June Memory

Introduction - The Liberty

It is Sunday, 3:30 a.m. 

He takes his turn at the wheel in Radium and continues the drive 
southward in the emerging dawn of the longest day of the year.  
And the sky is a pinkish grey when he thinks about her recent 
comments and apologies.  Sick with fear and her desire to be 
with him is false.

Now all I can do is concentrate on this road.

In the days which follow he sees tallest trees, crumbling volcanic 
rock, blinding white of snow.  And the deepest blue crevasses of 
glaciers moving slowly under a punishing sun.  He sees the insides 
of his lungs as they strain for breath.  He sees fatigue, 
camaraderie, and feels the love of friends.

They leave their packs on the crater rim and walk unencumbered to 
the summit.  He hugs his partners.  Thank you for getting me here.  
As descent begins he stops to pick up two small rocks.  The first for 
a good friend who had said excitedly You must bring me back a 
rock from the top! So he does.  And then the second rock.

For her.

Mind thick with the thinness of altitude, he fumbles. And drops it.  A 
warning.  Always he brought her small rocks each proof of a 
moment, of his thoughts location.   He bends down again, places 
this rock carefully in the left chest pocket over his heart and smiles.  
An ocean of clouds below him.  He bids farewell to the summit.

He is wanting of ceremony in this high place.  Pauses.  Quietly,
 inside,  he says a short prayer for the recent death of a friend’s 
sister.  And now it is time to move again.

Goggles hide his tears from the wind and he begins to walk down 
the ridge.  The dropped rock.  He now knows himself.  He now 
knows herself.  He knows they are finished.

“ ... and all throughout the days and nights,

 throughout the air,

 everywhere amongst the snow and ice,

 rotten rock, and dark corners of his mind,

he looked anxiously...

for flowers for her hair.”

Alone, all of those stones are his now.

© 1999 J. Popowich