My Rosebud

Hello my pretties,

   The word was whispered, yet conveyed intense emotion. Rosebud. The last, best image in citizen Kane's head. The one thought that defined his soul. When my time comes, I wonder what my Rosebud will be. I wonder which of the billions of images, feelings, twinges, flushes, thoughts, or snapshots will be the last one my dying mind picks.

   Will it be Jen, who loved me ferociously until she died way before her time? Sweet, poisonous Jen could be my Rosebud, for when she died, I felt like the world dimmed with her passing. A big part of me still suffers from her loss because...because I always thought that I'd see her again (all apologies to James Taylor for stealing his line.) Jen is tattooed in my psyche, and perhaps she will be the last, best thing my dying mind will see as I leave this world. The thought pleases me.

   Will it be Wendy, the California beauty who died three days after our engagement, in a frenzy of twisted metal and blood? Wendy, who taught me fear and love and manhood, a girl who became a woman who remained a child, could be my last, best sight. It is a thought that would please her, so it pleases me.

   Will it be Lynne, who was the first girl to kiss me like she meant it? Lynne, a daughter of a west Texas rancher, weighing less than 100 pounds but was tougher than boot leather. Lynne, who was so smart, so pretty, so brave about everything, even when she wanted to break down like everyone else. Maybe Lynne will be in my mind when it fades and darkens into oblivion. The thought scares me, but she would love me again for it.

   Maybe my Rosebud will be my brothers and sisters and mom and dad, at the supper table. My dad will be aloof and slightly surly. My mom will be laughing and strong. The kids will smile and joke and talk of nothing important, but it will infuse us with a feeling that we really do love each other, despite the fact that we constantly fight. This pleases me, very much.

   Maybe my Rosebud will be the darkness that I love so much as I enter the workroom at school in the mornings. I am the first one there. The halls are silent, almost moody with half-lighting and echoes from my footsteps. The workroom is dark, but there are flashing lights from various sources: computers, printers, microwave. There is a vivid blue slash of light emanating from the electric stapler, and this light entrances me because it is so ridiculously blue. I stare at it, and then I look away with a feeling of happiness and heaviness, the twin emotions jangling my nerves like fingernails across a chalkboard. The lights from the parking lot are filtered through almost-closed blinds, throwing weird patterns in weak light against the back wall. The aura of this light, the silence in the room, the blue light powering its way into my psyche, it all makes me a little uneasy and nostalgic, as if I need to be there, but I need to be somewhere else twenty years ago. Maybe this will be the scene in my mind when I leave all of you. I like this scene, but I hope I outlive its power.

   Maybe I'm not supposed to know my Rosebud. Maybe it is the last, best thought that heralds the beginning of a new and deeper awareness about my life and my soul. Perhaps I will see Jen or Wendy or Lynne or my family again after this life is over, and maybe we will all see things as we should.

   My Rosebud. May it bring me a peace I never feel in life...



DentedSyke DentedSyke
56-60, M
3 Responses Mar 22, 2009

I really enjoyed your heart rending story, If I remember correctly Citizen cane`s Rosebud was his sled. I also wonder what mine would be? Thankyou for the pull to my heart strings.

You brought me some sweet and sad nostalgic thoughts of my own and I thank you for that.

I loved it! this was an amazing story. It really speaks to a person. And makes you think as well. Just, wow, amazing.