(Gerard's POV) We all have that one place, the one that we are able to go to in order to clear our troubled minds.
The sidewalks are lined with what appears to be thousands upon thousands of trees. And in the fall, a mass of red leaves dominate their branches. While the air is cool and crisp, the sun remains bright in the sky; its attempts to warm each day are futile. And though the trees discourage it, the sun’s rays make an effort to reach solid ground in order to light the way through this well-shaded street.
I remember on that day my tiny hand was placed in your larger one as you guided me down the sidewalk. I remember peering up at the sky, and for once not being blinded by the sun’s intensity. The leaves seemed to glisten, but even so, they could not compare to the brightness that was reflected in your eyes that day.
It was a moment of peace and serenity, one that has remained strong in my mind after the passing of all these years. It is my dearest memory of you. But perhaps it is because it is so unlike you that it has remained so prominent and well-liked. It is the sole memory of mine in which your eyes have displayed liveliness, as if you were capable of showing an emotion rather than your constant apathy. And furthermore, it is one of my few memories of you holding my hand rather than an alcoholic drink.
And while I do in fact love you, I cannot help but to feel bitterness towards your flaws. At times, this bitterness will mask any positive feeling that I have for you. And so, I will go to my place where I only am able to see who you were that one brilliant day. I will go to the street that holds my most cherished memory of us.