The Gazebo

There she is again still wearing the big white hat that covers her hair and hides her face with a shadow. The dark blue band contrasts with the yellow flowers resting on the broad floppy brim. Standing on the gazebo she appears both angelic and regal. The full length dress could be mistaken for a robe or a royal cloak.

I've seen her before... but where? It certainly was not here on this gazebo; it was recently constructed. Why can I not remember?

Again I see her wave, and again the wind mistakes her movement as those of an orchestra conductor. Trees sway, birds sing, and the apparel she wears dances.

Where...where? My imagination drifts as I search for an answer. I recall Sharon, thin fragile Sharon. I wonder if she became a librarian; that was her dream. I met her at the public library where she spent hour after hour re-shelving books left at tables and benches in stacks of similar subjects. No, this is not Sharon...is it?

The deep folds of her dress and the distance between us prevents me from determining her profile. As she stands there she seems the personification of a Greek Goddess. I wish her to move, to give me a sign, but she remains motionless. Does she want me to approach or maintain a distance? A simple movement would inform me of her wish. Still she remains motionless.

I know if I moved toward the gazebo without her invitation she will vanish... evaporate as a cloud clears way for a blue sky. Who is she? More importantly, what is she and what does she want?

I recalled Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol,” and the ghost of Christmas past. Is this the ghost of lovers past? Is that why I thought of Sharon? She was the first, but not the first love. Betty was the first love, she abandoned me to be with my friend, Jay. Is this Betty? No...I am certain this is not Betty.

If this is the ghost of lovers past why is she here? Is she angry? Is she haunting me for vengeance? Or might it be the ghost of lovers past reminding me of what might have been, but never was?

Where did she go? She is no longer here, there is just a vacant gazebo. Was she only a figment of my imagination? Was this a conscience screaming? “Come back, come back.”

By Robert L. Scarry

From: United States

Twitter: usnavy1990bob

Facebook URL: https//www.facebook.com/robert.scarry.3