Her nervousness fades and heartbeat slows as the small row boat travels downstream. “Just relax,” she tells herself as she lies in the boat. Hugging her journal ever closer to her chest, she shifts her attention to the cloudless blue sky and trees. “I’m going to miss this.” She says and wipes a tear from her face. “I am going to miss all of this.”
She squeezes her eyes shut and let out a loud sob.
I hate this, she thinks. Why did you have to gift me such a terrible illness? With her eyes full of tears, she opens them and looks to the sky. She cries out, “Why?”
Just then, she feels the boat stop moving. She sits up, looks around, and notices the calm surrounding as if for the first time. “Susan, are you alright?” Her brother, Timothy, asks.
Susan glances from her brother to the river to the boat and frowns. “H-have,” she hesitates, “Have we not already been down the river today?”
“Why, no.” Timothy replies, “I just got here and found you lying in the boat. You had me worried there for a minute. Were you sleeping?”
That’s what I like to know, Susan thinks. “I’m not sure,” she says, steps out of the boat and onto the grass, and wraps her arms around Timothy in a tight embrace. “I’m going to miss you, Tim.”