Her eyes were always lidded and I think that was her way of living in a half-dream state. The real world was never really her friend. I’m not sure if I really ever was, either.
I remember driving up to the vast white yard, her front door wide open. I found her sleeping in the filed of blossoms; she had been laid out like an angel. I got her back inside but she never seemed to wake up. She was half-asleep. Like always.
It was surprise, of course, but somehow not very surprising at all. She looked just like she always did, like a sleeping angel on the ground, surrounded by her white flower petals. I could feel my chest constrict when I saw her as though I knew before I even touched her. Before I saw the blue tint to her lips, or how her skin was pale, so pale.
The tears took a while to come. So did any emotion, really.
The ambulance was silent when it rolled to a stop. The whole day was like a silent film. I wanted to change the channel but I couldn’t. I stayed seated by the snow angel of blossoms when people entered and exited the house.
They said they had found an empty pill bottle.
I just wish she would wake up. I’ve always been waiting for her to wake up.
Wake up, I pleaded in my head.
Please, wake up.