It Might Be The Last Time (The Time is Never Right)

Window View | Isabel Gieser | Photography

It Might Be The Last Time (The Time is Never Right) by Sofia Guyer

And when did everything start to feel so heavy? When did fatality start seeping into every goodbye? Stumbling out of the airport, my brother cries for the first time in 6 years – his grief wheezes in his throat. 

I look out the window of Caroline’s car, leaving behind Lillianca for what might be the last time. 

The grief of memory that haunts her sits heavy in the air -- a writer all her life, she put pen to paper before she lost the ability to do so.

The very last thing she wrote was my birthday card. It will probably be the last thing she ever writes.

With a failing memory, her subconscious held onto the fact that she had made a mistake upon signing the card -- “I messed it up, I need it back, I need to make it right,” 

Her final great work, her magnum opus, her Rushmore. 

An apology to her granddaughter for seeing her and expressing distaste at her very being.