A short story I wrote based off of a picture prompt!
They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die, but for me, it happened before that.
It was my seventh birthday, and I was playing with my best friend, Johnny. We didn’t care that he was a boy and I a girl; we liked each other, we were friends, and that was that.
“I’ll race ya!” Johnny yelled as he ran out of the house.
I giggled and chased after him, my brown hair flying behind me in wild tangles.
He and I zoomed down the white front porch and across my front yard to where the tire swing hung from the great oak tree, its branches reaching for the sky.
We were almost there, and he and I were neck-to-neck. I put on an extra burst of speed and leapt onto the tire swing, squealing.
“Haha! I beat you.” I stuck my tongue out at him, and he did the same.
Chuckles preceded our moms, who ambled in our direction.
“Y’all are too cute in your matching white clothes.” Mommy pulled out her camera and motioned for us. “Let’s take a picture real quick. Come on, kids.”
I hopped off the tire swing and grabbed Johnny’s arm, pulling him with me. The sun glared in my eyes, forcing me to look down and squint.
“Oh come on, honey. Look at the camera. Johnny, make her look.”
Johnny, laughing, leaned over and planted a little kiss on my cheek.
I squealed, my mouth scrunching into a smile, and Mommy snapped the picture.
It was my twenty-second birthday, and Johnny had just proposed. I covered my mouth with my right hand, tears in my eyes, and stared down at my left hand, where a diamond rested on my ring finger, glimmering in the sunlight.
We stood under the great oak tree in my front yard, where we had spent many hours in our childhood playing. My sunhat tilted up in the wind.
Johnny held my hands in his and stared at me with love in his eyes.
“I’m so happy for you two!” Mom exclaimed, wiping tears away. She wrapped one arm around me and the other around Johnny, squeezing us to her.
She stepped in front of us. “Come, I have to get a picture of this.”
“Mom,” I groaned, but I secretly loved how she always had to take pictures of everything, especially when it came to Johnny and me.
“What, you don’t want to take a picture with your fiance?” Johnny teased, his eyes bright beneath his flop of brown hair.
“I never said that.” I slapped his chest before wrapping my arm around his waist, his arm coming to rest on my shoulders.
I smiled at the camera, but Johnny turned and kissed me on the cheek.
Mom took the picture.
It was my eighty-second birthday. Johnny and I supported each other across Mom’s old front yard, where we now lived, mom having died years ago.
Our friends and family flocked after us, chatter ripe on the summer air. Once we reached the great oak tree, we turned around, laughing good-naturedly when I stumbled and nearly fell.
My white hair was pulled back in a bun, and wire-rimmed glasses perched on my nose. I grinned at Johnny and patted his wrinkly face, his receding hairline white like mine.
“Happy birthday, my love.” He pecked a kiss on my lips.
Exclamations of “aww” filled the air.
Our middle-aged daughter stepped up, pulling out her phone. “Kiss her again! I wanna get a picture of that.”
“Oh!” I laughed.
Johnny planted a wet kiss on my cheek, and I stuck out my tongue at the phone.
Our daughter took the picture.
The flashes of my life ended and where I was came back into focus.
It was my eighty-third birthday. I kneeled at the base of the great oak tree, having come out here to be alone.
I reached a shaky hand out and brushed my fingers over the words engraved on the tombstone. “Johnny, beloved son, husband, and father.”
Tears streamed down my face. He had passed away three months ago, leaving me to celebrate my birthday without him for the first time since we were six. It was only right to bury him where so much of our life had happened.
“I miss you, Johnny.” I bowed my head, tears dripping off of my chin. “But I know I’ll see you soon.” The ache in my chest lightened at that.
My life may have surpassed him, but it wouldn’t last forever. Soon, I would see my beloved Johnny again. Until then, I would enjoy his memory in these flashes of life.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!
–– Katie Marie