The First Time I Couldn't Say Goodbye - Grace, age 14

The First Time I couldn’t say Goodbye

By Grace, age 14

She walked me to the bus stop.
Across the big, wide street
With her rowdy jumpy dog
And the one who wouldn’t step in puddles.

The sky was dark
It was June; but rainy
It had been for hours.

We had walked her dogs to a park.
Threw a bone.
Ran around.
Talked about the future.
Because; Goddamnit; it was the only unknown we had.

I probably cried right about then.
Knowing that I might never see her again
Hit me like a truck.
Maybe not then, but I know It hurt.
It still hurts.

She sat with me at the bus stop.
She saw the cold; the sadness I felt.
She probably felt it too.
We sat in solemn silence for far too long.

Until I used all of my willpower
Trying not to cry.
“I’m really going to miss you.”
And I broke.

She responded the same.
“I’ll miss you too.”
And that was it.

My bus’ headlights shone through the foggy dark.
I rose from the bench.
She did too.

I hugged Spoc and said
“Hyvä pojka; Good boy.”
And then I hugged her and said
“Goodbye. I’ll miss you.”

Hot tears filled my eyes.
And yet, I didn’t cry.

I took a step onto the bus
Turned around, smiled, and waved.
She did the same.

And then I stepped forward.
The bus left.
And she ran alongside it.
Until she couldn’t.

And I cried.
And cried.
And cried.

Because I knew
That was the last time I’d see her.
And it was.