TM 319: Friday

Every Friday, I visit my late husband’s grave. Why? He neither died nor was buried on a Friday, nor did we meet or get married on a Friday. (In fact, all of those events occurred on a Wednesday. How, I’m not quite certain.) No. Friday was a special day for Arthur and I because, no matter what, he made certain that, on Fridays, he always set aside some time for the two of us to be alone – what the surface world would consider to be a date night, leaving Atlantis and courtly intrigue behind us. Indeed, there were some heavily rainy Fridays where the two of us would venture out onto the surface world and take in their sights, dates where Arthur would further teach me of the history of Earth and its myriad of cultures. It was always our day, the day that for me holds the most special of memories, and though our marriage suffered through its share of troubles (and what marriage doesn’t?) those memories will always bring a warmth to my heart, even on the coldest nights of this brave, new world that I find myself living in without Arthur by my side. But that is it; exactly why I visit his grave with such religious regularity. No matter how many changes have come in my life, no matter the troubles we had, that was always our day, and I don’t want his death to have changed that. It wouldn’t feel right.

Mera
Aquaman
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