One More Kiss

I sat in my car, waiting on line at the gas station, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. I barely noticed the other cars, just stared past a large construction truck towing a bulldozer, idling in the lot next to me. It was just a week before Valentine’s Day, only twenty-six months since my husband Robert’s death, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Valentine’s Day had been twice as special for me and my husband of fifty-two years—Robert’s birthday was the day after, February 15th. Every year, on the 14th he’d give me a card filled with the most beautiful heartfelt sentiments, signed at the bottom with Xs and Os. Then the next day we’d always gather with the kids around a birthday cake and blow out the candles. After all those years, it wasn’t easy now to be alone. If I could hear from him one last time…

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I could see the construction truck backing up towards me, fast. I hit the horn, but it was too late. Crunch! It had backed up right into the driver’s side of my car. Looking at the demolished side view mirror and the plate-sized dent in the door, I almost felt like crying. Why’d this have to happen now?

Fortunately, my insurance was wonderful in pushing my claim through, and a week later, I brought my car in for repairs and picked up a rental car. I drove it home through rainy streets that seemed to match my mood.

The morning of the 14th, I woke up feeling even more miserable. I have to get out of the house, I thought. I grabbed the car keys and headed to the garage. Where can I go? What can I do to feel better?

I approached the car, and stopped in my tracks. For the first time, my eyes focused on the license plate.

RK, Robert’s initials. 215… his birthday. And one more symbol I couldn’t ignore…

It was a Valentine’s Day card from Robert all right. He’d left me one more X.