To be Reborn

They had lived too long by themselves, surrounded by the silence of the wood.

“Surely, there are other worlds left to explore,” the woman said.

“I don’t know about other worlds,” her husband replied. “I only know the moon that shines above this grove and the tilting of these planets, the wonder of their courses as they traverse the celestial sky.”

“Let us leave this place,” the woman said. “My bones turn soft from indolence and my skin has grown translucent as the moonbeams.”

“You made a promise,” her husband replied. “As long as these woods stand, as long as the moon rises, as long as I breathe, we are bound to this place.”

In the night, the woman arose. She sheathed herself in the rays of the starlight and stole to where her husband lay sleeping under the branches of the beech tree.

He lay so quiet. Gone were the cares of the day and it seemed his brow reflected the light of the moon. Looking into his face, she almost lost her resolve.

But a cloud swept across the face of the moon. Hardening her heart, she raised the knife.

#

Later, in the silence of their home, she waited for his return. She listened for the sound of his footsteps, for his hand on the door.

“Come,” he said.

She saw the lines of weariness etched by years onto the parchment of his face.

“I would have kept you here with me,” he whispered.

He flung open his hands, and she saw where the bonds between them had been severed.

“I cannot stay with you forever,” she said. “My life consists of more worlds than this. I promise you, I will return to visit you each year. Each year, when the sickle moon returns, I will come and kiss you awake.”

He bowed his head and she saw the shine of his tears.

“Farewell,” she whispered.

She broke through the curtain of time. Her body flowed through the woodwork, breaking through the barrier of what is.

"I would have followed you," he said.

But his voice fell into silence, echoing into the echoes her passing left behind.

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