The Rain Leaves a Scar
For once, I am glad this day only appears once every four years. Growing up, I wished that I was like all the other kids and had a birthday every year. As a teenager, I am glad that I only have to live this once every four years.
It's been four years and I still miss you. I feel something wet on my cheek and think for a moment that maybe I am crying. But I do not cry. Boys are not allowed to cry unless they are hurt. So it must be the rain.
Then again, it could be tears. I hurt in a place that cannot be seen. I have hurt here for years but today is the worst of all because it marks just how long you have been gone.
You and I were best friends. You were best friends with him. He was best friends with another as well as you. That other was a very close friend of mine and I was close to him.
The four of us always seemed to be together or in pairs. Never a trio though.
Those two ruled our little family with you and I as their trusty sidekicks partners. Often, it was easier to approach you and I than one of those two. We were not the leaders but rather, just two normal people. Some people seemed to be intimidated by the power held but never abused.
I remember that day clearly. It is and always will be etched in my memory.
We had just won an important match that day and all of us were tired, having all played. It was rare that we all played, our team was just that good. Well, you and your other best friend always played as you did doubles.
It was raining that day as well and we were rushing to the closest home, mine at the time. Of course, there also another reason why we had been going to my house. My family was having a birthday dinner for me and you three were invited.
We were crossing the street when a yell came too late. My little brother, my poor little brother, had come to yell at us to hurry. Instead, he yelled at us to move.
A car came speeding down the street. Had it been a dry day, the streets would have been full of vehicles and nothing would have ever happened. But the streets were bare as the residents spent the rainy day inside their homes.
I just stood there as I watched the car get closer and closer. I wanted to move but my body was frozen. The next thing I knew, I was laying a few feet away and you were the one hurt.
No. You were not hurt. You were gone.
Funny, I have wandered back to that place. The blood is gone, washed away by time but I can still see it's stain on the pavement.
The house I grew up in is still there, just across the street. The toys in the small yard indicate a family with young children lives there now.
After that day, my family moved. A terrible thing, at least to us, had happened just out in front. My old bedroom looked out over the street where you had died.
I hear footsteps and turn. It is him, your other best friend. He has grown, I noticed. He is taller now and his hair is not as silly looking.
Our eyes connect for just a moment before they dart over to that spot. Footsteps from the other direction cause us to look at who is coming. This time we see the other member of what is left of our little group.
After your death, we all seemed to separate because without you, it felt incomplete. Being together, even in pairs, always seemed to bring you to mind.
I miss you and have every day since that day, four years ago.
Note: I didn't mean for this to turn out to be a sequel to Package for Dad but it kind of did. In fact, what happens in this thing, well, that's exactly what happened in Momoshiro's Memories, the offical sequel that has yet to be posted.
I do not own.