My dad and I were going to go fishing when I was eight and I was so excited. It was one of my favorite things to do with him after camping of course. Then Bethany walked through the gate and she had actually brought her own fishing pole.
My dad looked at me smiling as he said, “We can't leave her behind.” I glared at him and crossed my arms. “Son I know you don't want her to go, but someday you'll change your mind.”
I tried to get him to take someone, anyone, else. “Take Jimmy Johnson, take Tommy Thompson, take my best friend Bo.” He just smiled at me and shook his head. “Take anybody that you want as long as she don't go Take any boy in the world. Daddy please don't take the girl.”
In the end she went fishing with us anyway. The whole time she kept talking to me and trying to see what I was doing. I don't think she even knew how to fish.
Ten years later:
Alright I admit it. My dad was right. I did change my mind. I love Bethany so much. We went to a movie together. It was our first date. When we walked out I kissed her, hoping she would kiss me back.
We had to walk home and Bethany told me if we cut through this one alleyway that we would get there way faster. So that's what we did. Before we made it halfway across a man pulled a gun on us. He grabbed Bethany and yelled, “If you do what I tell you to, there won't be any harm.”
I didn't know what to do. All the words I would have said, all the thoughts, were just gone. There was just me over here and her over there. “Take my money, take my wallet, take my credit cards,” I said holding them out to him. “Here's the watch that my grandpa gave me,” I yelled wrenching it from my wrist. “Here's the key to my car. Mister give it a whirl.” I threw them into his outstretched hand. “But please don't take the girl.”
He took everything of “value” I had that night, but he also took nothing. He left me the only thing that mattered. I could replace all those other things. But Bethany, there was only one Bethany.
Five years later:
We've been married quite awhile now and were expecting a child. Everyday is a day she/he could be born. Bethany doesn't want to know its gender. I do. Boy how I do, but that is her choice to make.
She walks in and say “It's time to go.” My eyes widen and I rush her to the car. Soon we were at the hospital then she was in labor. I got left out in the waiting room.
It was hours I waited until a doctor came out. He said, “The baby's fine,” and I felt so much relief. Yeah that was until he finished his sentence, “But you'll have to leave 'cause his momma's fading fast.” The doctor turned and walked away. I forgot about everyone around me. There was just me over here and her over there.
I prayed, “Take the very breath you gave me. Take the heart from my chest. I'll gladly take her place if you'll let me. Make this my last request. Take me out of this world. God, please don't take the girl.”
Eight years later:
Now I take my little boy fishing just like my dad took me. I named him Johnny after me, my little Johnny. I scan the surrounding area for him. As I do I wonder, Where could he have gotten to this time. “Johnny,” I yell when I finally spot him, “Come down here. You're supposed to be fishing.”
He begins to run my way as she comes over. She kisses my cheek and then he's here, standing right next to me and we're all together the way it was meant to be.
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