Graveside memoirs

The ghost of a woman waits for her husband to join her


2. Part two

  It was hard  to watch him struggle, holding back tears for her, struggling to climb the gentle slope of the hill, with his ankles getting caught in the long grass;

but after all, he was old. She remembered that she was too when it happened.

But she wasn’t old anymore; she was infinite, she was boundless, she was eternal, anchored to her sweet paradise here, by familiarity, by memory and the joy of reminisces.

Sometimes it was  simply the act of recalling that brought her joy, the harboring of her essence, the gradual, gentle decent back into the warmth, into the cautious retracing of her steps and her actions,

 mapping out the crevices of her journey, it was like crawling back into the belly of the earth.

The euphoric splendor of her heaven on earth.

She was drunk with content in moments like these.

She was waiting for him, it had been a long wait, but it was her fault after all, getting ahead of herself and leaving him all alone, all too soon.  

 Soon, she would tell herself.

 Her husband was a magnificent man, their long married life had been bliss, they had never needed children to prove that.

Hopefully he would be coming today, she lounged back against the trunk of the tree, wallowing in the memory of the bark pressing into the valley between her shoulder blades.

For the last forty years she had spent her days just like this, she adjusted herself into this old sweet memory, smoothing down her floral dress, tilting her straw sun hat, ever so slightly, so it shaded her eyes.

 Beams of sunlight fell in the patchwork space between the leaves overhead, she folded her hands in her lap crossing her outstretched legs at the ankle.

This was how it was meant to be, her need to duplicate the memory.

She often felt displaced at times like this, among the familiar, realizing that things were different now, something was missing,  someone was blatantly absent from her snap shot of serenity, however she blatantly tried to ignore it.

In times like this she felt alone.

Her husband thought about her all the time, she always appreciated that, since there where very few people left on this earth that could remember.

She would never have a legacy, but that didn’t faze her because she was blessed with a life instead.

She had been old when it happened,  she no longer remembered much about her decent, but when it did happen it had been subtle, quick and quiet  and she was thankful for that but she still didn't like to think about the night.

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