Absolutely nothing.
My feet led me to the crumbling stairs of the dormitory where I’d met the girl before. I leaned against the aged bricks, feeling a small piece break off in my fingers. I scanned the campus, searching for anything.
Staring out over the surrounding fields, I watched as the sun started its descent into slumber. The crisp air cooled, taking over my nose and fingers. If I were honest, I’d been here much longer than I planned, but couldn’t leave. I couldn’t walk away.
Finally, the owl leaving the abandoned building behind me forced me to admit that I’d come to the end of this experiment.
My feet carried me back home, and the tears rolling down on my frigid cheeks were symbolic of the denial I’d been buried in since leaving the hospital.
I didn’t want to be normal. After all these years, all these times I’d wished for nothing more than to be just like everyone else, I had to admit I’d been wrong.
My extra sense was a gift. It wasn’t a burden. I shook my head and gaffed at how foolish I’d been. What a waste. I hadn’t done anything but complain like a spoiled child. The universe had touched me with the ability to help those that were stuck in between, comfort those that had lost their loved ones, carry messages of hope to the hopeless and I had wasted it on selfish thoughts of trying to be part of the cool kids club.
Trying to blend into the masses.
Not until it had been taken from me did I realize how the masses would never understand and that would be totally fine, because the masses were not where I was destined to be. I wasn’t supposed to stand among the faceless, I’d been touched to help those invisible be seen again.
My coat collar was damp with tears when I walked back through the kitchen door. Grandma’s concern made more tears fall, and I began to tell a made up lie about a dead bird I saw. Grandma patted me on the back, wiping my cheeks with her weathered hands.
Someday she would pass on, and I wouldn’t be able to have these moments with her. Now, without my gift, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to see her again, even for a moment.
The flood gates were welded wide open and tears stopped falling before my crying had ceased. I found I couldn’t even articulate what I was crying about at the end. Everything – nothing, and all of it in between.
I slumped into my bed, exhausted, and spent. Sleep took over quickly, and I woke embarrassed at the complete come apart the night before.
I spent the day in the garage, going through and organizing old boxes of paint, caulking tubes, and miscellaneous odds and ends that had made their way onto the shelves. I needed busy work. I needed something that would occupy my mind, but not injure my brain further. Sorting felt like a good choice.
The day led into the entire week, sorting, and organizing my room, the linen closet, the basement, and finally ending up in the attic. My grandparents were appreciative of all my hard work, but really, they didn’t know how much I appreciated having something to do.
Before I knew it, Christmas had come and went, with new year’s quickly following. My grandparents had a standing Game night at the Grange Hall every New Year’s Eve. It had been a tradition in the town for years, and I’d always avoided going. Although, I couldn’t call bingo numbers or help with other games, I could at least volunteer at the refreshment table.
At least then, I could feel useful.
I had to be the youngest person in the hall by at least fifteen years. Mostly, the senior citizens of the town were filing in, smiling at old friends, complimenting each other on their sparkly New Year’s Eve sweaters.
I giggled at the scene, as it unfolded in front of me. This was exactly how most college freshmen spent their first New Year’s Eve. Hanging with the glitter sweater grandma gang! I wanted so much to text Camryn a picture, but it would only lead to getting a lecture about staying off my phone.
I missed Camryn.
Instead, I dutifully went to the kitchen, walking through for no particular reason. Emerging from the door, eating a cookie I had swiped, a baseball hat caught my eye. His tall lean back made my heart skip. He turned toward me, and I cursed my imagination under my breath. Of course, it wasn’t Tyler. How could it be? I shook my red tresses, frustrated that my mind had allowed my subconscious to go to him.
The clock countdown began, and I busied myself with the cookies and treats being filled. Everyone yelled, “Happy New Year.” The group joined into a sing along of, “Old Auld Lang Syne” which brought tears to my eyes. It felt like a black and white movie had come to life. The joy and smiles in the group made the tears overflow. What was with this break that kept making my eyes leak everywhere?
I saw grandma and grandpa. They were quietly smiling at each other. Grandpa leaned ever so softly down and kissed grandma's lips, gently and with the passion of a thousand love songs. The kiss didn’t last but a moment, and yet the connection and deep love they had for one another radiated in the air around them.
The tears changed, and they rolled down my cheeks. The regret of not appreciating what I had, when I had it. Being sure about who I was, no matter what anyone else thought, and waiting for the person to come along that valued me for me.
That was what they had, my grandparents. They had that magical connection that people write books about.
In that instant, I
