Here’s an entry for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction hosted by Alistair Forbes. 200 words somehow connected (or not, I guess) to the photograph below.
I don’t know why I keep coming to this beach. Sitting. Remembering. It was such a bright and sunny day. The sky was blue. The air was thick and hot and humid. There were so many footprints in the sand. Some of them were yours.
How could you do this to us? What was so horrible that the love in our little family couldn’t resolve? As time goes by, what do you want me to tell our boys? I want to feel grief and loss and sorrow. Instead, I feel anger.
“It’s been a year,” my sister, Ivy, said.
“It has been,” I agreed.
“And we’re still coming back here every Friday,” Ivy persisted.
“Yes,” I agreed.
How could you just walk out there and forever away from us?
“There’s nothing you could have done, Colleen.” Ivy moved closer to me. She put her hand in mine and squeezed tightly.
I should have known. I should have sensed something.
“There’s nothing you could have done, Colleen,” Ivy repeated.
I know she’s right, but I don’t believe her.