5 Nov

It will smell like him, she hopes. The soft canvas stained with so many years of his hard work should hold the sweet scent of his sweat like a fading secret. Hanging there on the rusted hook it pulls her; its tender, well-worn creases smiling from across his garden. And there are the fingerprints. Impressions of dead flesh, smudged in dark mocha at the crown.

A few approaching steps and she reaches, trembling, afraid to be let down, to be alone again. Alone with the silence that hangs about the house and the indifference that clings to her clothes. It’s over. Then, soft as a lover’s whisper, the breeze shifts, and in the back of her throat she catches a faint taste of him; the familiar, earthy tang of his body’s last impression, left behind on this old hat, mingling with the heady summer scent of his roses.

A thrumming river runs between her ears and her chilled skin rises and shivers in the late morning sun. Her throat aches and tightens, choking on the truth. He is still here. The worn texture of the hat’s tan fabric is frayed and rough in her wrinkled hands. The dirt smears, pressing together the tenuous link between her fingers and his. She smiles as the tears come, inhales what will soon be gone, and remembers.


6 Responses to “Bloom”

  1. Andrew November 5, 2010 at 2:50 pm #

    Nearly brought me to tears. Brilliant, evocotive, powerful writing. When is the book coming out?

  2. Dad November 5, 2010 at 3:05 pm #

    You are brilliant beyond belief. You really can put a person in the story.

  3. Mae November 5, 2010 at 4:10 pm #

    very powerful.

  4. Adele November 6, 2010 at 8:12 am #

    Wow! My mind was taken over by the words! Did you know that I was there? Take me back or take me somewhere else. What a wonderful, heartfelt and invigorating feeling. Please Madam, may I have some more?

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