Arizona Dawn

         I had loved her.

          “Listen to the stone,” she whispered as her ear met the jagged boulder, her fingers running through each crack and crevice of the red rock before us.
          “I don’t hear anything,” my lower voice replied, bewildered by her actions.
          She fluttered her dark brown eyes open and stared at me, pulling my gaze into their inky depths.
          “You aren’t hearing it because it doesn’t make the sounds you know. It speaks in a different way than us. You have to really listen to understand its words.”
          Those gorgeous eyes shut once more, her face still pressed against the stone.
          “You’re the only one in the world who can make me listen to a rock, you know that, Dawn?” I told her.
          “It’s not just a rock,” she started, “It’s history. It’s seen more than you ever will.”
          “And how is that so?” I questioned.
          She pursed her lips together in a smile like a child with a secret, her eyes now wide and aflame.
          “This piece of rock, this stone, has witnessed so many things. When the first animals appeared, it was here. When human civilization began, it was here. It was here when Rome fell, here during the Dark Ages, here when the Americas were first being explored by Natives and Europeans alike. It was here during war, during peace, and most importantly, it’s here now.”
          The words hit me like a blow to the chest, for I had never thought of it that way. The statement was so true, so beautiful, and so real. My young mind had just not been able to notice it before. Slowly, I managed to form a question.
          “Why is it important for the stone to be here now?” I asked.
          Dawn took a step toward me and grinned shyly.
          “So it can watch our first kiss.”
          The moment our mouths touched, I knew she was the one: The great one, the one whom I would keep forever. She wasn’t just a girl, she was everything to me: lover, confidant, friend. Before her I had not lived, and after her, I feared I never would again. No one could replace my Dawn. No one.

          It rained the day of her funeral.

         It wasn’t a cold, gray rain, but a fierce, hot storm that comes only once in an Arizona summer. The heavy drops pounded the dusty earth, casting a thick haze upon the sky. As I glared at the turbulent heavens, I could feel the anger rise in my soul, burning to burst free. Why was she stolen from me? I had loved her!
          Swiftly though, the blame landed on myself. What if I had been there to break her fall? She was always there when I wanted her guidance, but I had failed her when she needed me most. It was the desert cliffs that were her passion, and the desert cliffs that took her life. If only I had been there that night...
          I buried my fists deep within my pockets and began my trudge home. I was leaving her then, and every horrid step pierced another hole in my heart. Eventually, the rain let up enough to allow the sun to shine through the clouds, but I didn’t care. Nothing could warm me anymore, until I saw it.
          There was a little chunk of sandstone off the side of the path, no different than the rest at a glance. However, there was something about it, a uniqueness to the way the light danced across the surface that caught my attention. When I watched the crimson grains swirl and fade to a yellowish tan, it reminded me of a sunrise, a new beginning, a dawn. It was the moment I realized the rock was speaking to me.
         I scooped it into my palms and held its damp shape to my ear. Instantly, my eyes closed, and I heard its song for the first time. Though it used no words and made no sound, I could feel it deep inside me.
          “I have seen many things, but so shall you. Every chip in the block molds its character, as does every wound to the flesh. There can be no happiness without pain, no love without loss. You must remember, my friend, that to have loved and been loved is the greatest gift of all.”
          My hands clutched the stone tightly while I looked skyward. The storm had left few traces of its presence, and as I turned to walk away, the breeze breathed a gentle sigh. I was going to make it.