Go Swim

Our future is fossilized in my kitchen calendar. Your little sister’s wedding in May. Pub trivia at Donnellan’s next week. Anniversary in November. Like it could still happen. Like those old bones could wake up one day and plod across the plains, through the hoodoos, careful not to shatter brittle limbs. A tragic thing. People will pull their cars over to cry. No one will take pictures. Then when Winter comes, and the monster lays down its body to die by the sea, everyone will be relieved. We’ll burn the stars off with our bonfire. Maybe we’ll all go swim.

 

 

 

 

George Nevgodovskyy lives in Vancouver, Canada. He does his best writing after everyone has gone to sleep. Check out more of his work at georgenev.blogspot.com.

Photo Credit: Theen Moy