Gone

A calm house was a fiery house. On the inside of course. The old man was an old man. On the outside of course. On the inside he was just fine. The world wasn’t fine. His wife was really inside. Inside the ground. In a box in the ground. There he would be too. In a box in the ground. The ground around. All around. He rocked on the chair. The chair creaked and he watched the birds peck on the tree. Two little birds that followed him from his home. To where? To where? he asked the birds. The two birds looked directly at him and said, “Outside. Outside.” He stood, creaking. The others watched. Mouths gaping. They weren’t watching him at all. He
had never stood. It takes many years to stand like that. Days on top of years. Things aren’t okay, he thought. On the inside. On the outside. Things aren’t okay. He looked around. There wasn’t a single face. Not a single one. The war was gone. His friends were gone. His wife was gone. His kids were gone. His house was gone. His letters were gone. Letters from his mother. Letters from his children. He was there. There, there. On the inside anyway. He was there. The birds were gone. They were never really there. They were at his parents’ funeral. Together they were buried. He was at his wife’s funeral. Everyone else was gone. Gone, gone. He was there. He would be there. He stood, creaking. The world was bright. The world was young. Not for him. The world was old for him. But it was bright. He walked out the door. He thought he walked out the door. But actually the door was locked. He couldn’t work a door anyway. Not anymore. The world wasn’t for him anymore. The sun wasn’t really shining because the shades were closed. But those didn’t matter. Because he was going. On the inside. It was coming back to him. The outside. The brightness and the laughter. The sun and sprinklers in the summer. Sparklers in the nighttime. His wife’s staticky lips smoothing his cheek. Head on pillow, staring directly into her eyes. Eyes that stayed the same while she grew old. Hearing the children outside. Playing in the yard. Smiling on the inside. On the outside smiling. Laughter. He was crying on the outside. On the outside he was dying. But on the inside--

Benjamin Amedolara