Remember when we met? I carry an old photo with me, it’s a shot of us at the beach near the boardwalk. I was blurry. You, on the other hand, you looked great as always, your hair just the right amount of windblown and athletic—if hair can be athletic, yours certainly was.
I sat on that stretch of beach earlier today, that same spot in fact, watching our son play. How could I have known back then that I would be watching this freckled toddler amuse himself while the morning sun made his cheeks rosy? I smiled at my sweet blond child, the perfect image of you. He looked up and waved at me, then turned back to his buckets and sand castles and plastic trucks.
At least I have him, I thought, he’ll never leave me.
I walk through the grass, past the stone bench, until I find you. I place the picture of us gently on your grave. I cry until I can’t see. You are blurry now.
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(A note to my regular readers from my mothersofbrothersblog: I am starting this blog, Word Cut, as an extension or splinter from my other site. This is an exclusive place to do writing challenges like the one above. This week's contest is for trifecta, and the challenge was to write an essay using the word "image." The parameters were to keep it between 33 and 333 words. Click on trifecta to read the other entries in the competition. Wish me luck!)
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(A note to my regular readers from my mothersofbrothersblog: I am starting this blog, Word Cut, as an extension or splinter from my other site. This is an exclusive place to do writing challenges like the one above. This week's contest is for trifecta, and the challenge was to write an essay using the word "image." The parameters were to keep it between 33 and 333 words. Click on trifecta to read the other entries in the competition. Wish me luck!)
