I gaze across the yard from the back porch, at the warm, empty altar adorn with white lilies, and picture us standing there amidst loving embrace of friends and nature, finally taking the long-procrastinated plunge this afternoon.

“But I don’t wanna stand up there!” Our son had yelled as I set him in the car last night, utterly devastated that he couldn’t watch the ceremony from my old, empty two-by-four swing hanging on the oak.

As the first of many workers begins to fold the white, empty chairs, tears streak down my cheeks and I think about the two loves of my life driving away, realizing the last thing I ever told my boy was, “No.”


Written for this week’s Three Line Tales. Photo by Ben Rosett.

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