Last night Linda came to me in a dream.
I was at a race track, watching the ponies. There were people around, but no big crowd. It was broad daylight, hazy sun streaming through a stand of cypress. It felt like early morning, not racing time. The horses were warming up, training. In my waking life, I don’t go to race tracks.
I turned to the woman standing with me at the chain link fence. She looked at me and it was Linda. She gave me her sweet smile, the one that always melts my heart, her dark eyes downcast shyly. She pressed her side against my side, so the only place for my arm was around her shoulder. It felt OK there.
We made small talk, but I knew she was dead. I wanted to ask her why she left. I wanted to know if anything hurt. I wanted her to forgive me for…what? I wasn’t sure, but I needed forgiveness. I wanted to hold her, take her face in my hands, kiss her eyes.
She turned her head. I heard someone say You know she can’t be here.
A pack of horses thundered by. I rode one, and saw Linda, standing at the edge of the track. She was waving and calling to me, something I couldn’t hear. I’m sure she would forgive me, if I knew how to ask, if I knew my crime, if I could talk to her again.
But I rode away, around the turn.