March Flashes

Entry 1 | My Journal – For You | 100 words

It’s our annual holiday and I smile across at you as I stop the car. The smell of the sea, the sound of the waves, soothes my soul and calms my troubled mind. ‘Come on,’ I laugh, jumping out. The sand burns my feet but the sea beckons. The wind carries your plea, ‘Wait for me.’ Running over the dunes and down to the roaring sea, I sense you behind me. ‘Hurry up,’ I cry, glancing back. But your vision has faded– as it always does –and pain strikes my heart. I sink into the soft wet sand, and weep.

Entry 2 | Trevi Sorrow | 100

It was eerily quiet on the ancient cobblestone streets. The dawn light was mellow and so blessedly cool. Thank goodness for jetlag, for we had the city to ourselves. With our arms around each other, we each tossed a coin over our shoulder into the Trevi Fountain. He smiled, then kissed me. I sighed and blinked away tears. Tom’s leave is over soon. He’ll be going back to the war. To Afghanistan. And all I could think as I tossed my coin and heard its gentle ‘plop’ in the water behind me was, ‘God, please, bring him home to me’.

Entry 3 | Holiday | 97

Dear diary, Today was cold and grey, a very good day for a holiday. I stayed in my warm P J’s, putting my phone and iPad on ‘do not disturb’ mode. In my studio I placed a new, large canvas against my easel and enjoyed the smell of the oil paint as I spread a deep shade of green over the surface. My mind was full of dreams and ideas of the trees that would flow from my mind, my hand and then onto the canvas. It will be added to on another holiday .

Entry 4 | Hello | 100

Hello again, It’s me. It’s funny. I don’t know when I first really registered you were gone, though there were many moments momentarily ambushed by memories. I cook, eat, garden, I enjoy some things again, like the sun on new growth, and today’s unexpected warmth after winter. But its funny the holes people leave in your life. You think you’re ok. People leave, and when they do you grieve, you regret, and then you adjust until some little thing happens. Today the rose you planted bloomed for the first time, and I had to say goodbye, all over again. xxx


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