From where I am to where I need to go - no, where I need to be - isn't very far. It's no more than some thirty miles from here, and because it's pretty dark out, and the road there will be somewhat tricky no navigate, I'm going to take my time getting there. Just to try and do something I'm not yet certain I'll be able to do. I shouldn't be doing it, a part of me thinks, I should have just let things be. I should have remained buried in the past, just a memory. And if when I get there, and I'm pushed away, then that'll be it, the final nail in the coffin, the end of the dream, and I'll have no one to blame but myself. I get in the car, and adjust the mirror. I feel old - older than I look. I feel... halved. Like the best part of me had been ripped away from me years ago. And it was, I made sure of that. This is all muscle memory now, my mind lies elsewhere : I turn the key, and rev up the engine. The car starts to move, slowly at first. I'll be driving slow, all these miles. I laugh, but I really want to cry - I remember a time when things were still good, when there was still life and love and possibility. There was music, and birdsong and poems. How did that old one go? 'The woods are lovely, dark and deep, and I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.', only now I'll be breaking a promise, not keep one. I promised myself I'd leave it well alone. But then came that day, that fateful day, that made me realize it wasn't over. It would never be over.
The car glides silently through the dark road. Lampposts are few and far between here, so I drive cautiously through these uneven roads. I know I'm not that far now, I know this area pretty well. I know it like the back of my hand, though I do confess that I've not been here for a long, long while. There, just past that curve up ahead, and then it's a lengthy strength down the road. I know that in places like these it's somewhat uncommon for a car to be driving a kind of abandoned road, but sometimes people do get lost. I'm getting more and more nervous. I have no idea what's going to happen. I have no idea if I'll even have the courage to get out of the car. But I have to do this. I have to know, once and for all. And whatever happens, I'll respect that decision. Forever.
I'm reaching the long stretch of the road, and I can see the house coming closer. My heart beats faster and faster. I'm close enough that I can now see it fully formed, a dimly lit house. I don't know who I am, who I'm supposed to be. Who am I? Who am I? I'm here. I stop the car, and stay inside. I turn off the lights, but the engine is still on. It purrs in the midsummer night. What am I doing here at this time of night? I feel a cold bead of sweat running down my back. What am I doing? I let my head rest on the wheel for a couple of minutes. I'm drumming up the courage to get out of the car. But right now, right now my legs weigh tons. Right now my heart weighs tons. I can't bring myself to look ahead, not now, not yet. I need to breathe. Inhale... exhale. I go through this mantra in my mind, something I had to learn to control my panic attacks. Inhale... exhale. I start to feel calmer. Inhale. This is the only way I'll know for sure. Exhale. I open the door, get out of the car and slam it shut. Inhale. Take one step, then the other, then another. Exhale. Keep on going. Inhale. I fight my legs wanting to turn from stone to jelly. Exhale. I can see him now. My beautiful man, how did I lose you? Here I am, standing in front of you, at long, long last. 'Summer', he says. And I shake my head, and say, 'No, Summer's gone. It's just... I'm just Geraldine.'
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