To Dig is to Love

It’s something so selfish and small we don’t notice a thing. The way vines twist and curve around the metal fence, separating the man made lake from one’s backyard. The way green sprouts up, peeking through the rugged concrete of the city. It's all a garden to me. And there's so much fauna to appreciate with so little time. Lizards that find refuge in the furthest corner of the cupboard will try to explore, and they will, an entire new world will be open to them, but golden hour will be cut short with a splat. An innocent attack from a calico acting on its primal instincts. Soon enough, you’ll wake up, and outside our bedroom door, the carcass will be there, waiting. A gift. A sign of appreciation. A nuisance. A dead body. A misunderstanding between humans and animals, the only means for communication must be deciphered to be recognized. I had to explain that to you because your first emotion was disgust rather than endearment. 

With a paper towel in your hand, my eyebrows furrowed, because I knew. I knew you wanted to discard it in the trash. I hated that. 

“Are you seriously going to throw him out?” I questioned.

“It’s just a lizard,” you spat.

“He had a life, what if I just threw you in the garbage when you died?” 

“You’re being dramatic!”

“Let’s just bury it,” I whispered as I took his withering body in my hands and carried him out to the backyard and dug a shallow grave. As I inserted his shriveled frame into the ground, I gave him privacy with a mound of mud. I heard you chuckle during his funeral, a sound I struggle to forget and resent because I heard one during yours.  

The morning after was deafening, it was soggy, and there was a musk. The rain from the night still hung in the air. It was gross, everything was. Toads croaked as I creaked the door open, and I saw their nauseating skin slap against the wet floor. I shuddered, the cool air wasn’t a kiss, but a shove, a stabbing pain that cut off oxygen and reason. And the air shoved me all the way to the backyard, and I started digging, digging to that lizard, to feel something, to you. I felt my hand burn as the soil seeped into my wound, the one you made a mere two days ago, when you nicked me with your wedding ring. 

Your wedding ring sits on your nightstand, and mine stays on my hand. The glimmer of the band makes me sick each time I turn my attention to your side of the bed. Each time I go to bed, I expect the weight to change, and when I felt a small one the first night, I was so excited. But my eyes met green instead of brown, and that calico was staring back at me. A small hatred blistered in my soul as I stared into someone’s eyes that weren’t yours. And I weeped, I weeped for so long, my voice gave out, and I couldn’t choke out the sweet melody of your name anymore. The sound was replaced with the owl’s low hum, soothing me into another time. 

This time, when I woke up, you were gone, but just in the kitchen. The smell of banana pancakes comforted me, letting me know I was safe. I almost tripped over myself the way I ran into the kitchen to embrace you. Your warm skin felt so real and calming, and the slight hint of your woody scent was oh so sweet.

“Let’s go to the beach!” I suggested.

“Today? It’s freezing,” you argued.

“But we could bring blankets and it’ll be so nice.” 

“Just us two?”

“Just us two.”

The beach was desolate and cold, but we were together. It felt as if we were the last people on earth. The waves crashed against the shore, and the slight salty scent filled my nose and person. A dainty pink lingered on the tip on your nose as you spoke to me about something. I wasn’t paying attention when you asked, “You know?” I just replied with a nod because I wanted to admire your face more. And I’m glad I did because as I stand on the desolate, cold beach, I'm alone. And I don’t have a pink nose to stare at, but I can envision it in my mind. I can envision all of you in my mind, and that soothes me. Your cologne remains on your sweatshirt that swaddles my body as I sit in the spot we sat in previously. Even though you’re not here, it feels like you are. It feels like you're hugging me and showering me in reassurance. You’re telling me “It’s going to be okay,” and your lips meet mine, and I can taste the syrup from the pancakes. I can taste your thoughts, your feelings, your soul. 

When I open my eyes, I'm met with the sea, and I can feel the hard circle digging into my thigh, through my pocket. I know what I have to do. I take your wedding band out, and I bury it deep down in the sand, so no one else can get to it. Keeping it is too much of a burden, and I don’t want to store it away to be discarded and forgotten about. I cover up the grave and lay my lips on the sand, sealing your soul into it. 

Bianka Oliveira ‘29

This piece shows the way nature seeps it's way into our lives and how it affects our emotions and actions. The way one views and describes nature could dictate how they would write this story. Incorporating love and loss into the piece allowed me to encapsulate the beauty of nature with both the sunny and muddy parts of it.