blog, creative writing

On her birthday


Today, I realise it has been a while. Now and again I catch sight of a fading scar, an old wound. My hurts are my history, locked in the past.

Today, I remember. I look past the anguished latter days, and I see laughter, a book shared, easy times cooking side by side. I leave the arguments and disagreements behind, in favour of sunlit moments on the beach, walking in step. Those were times to savour, and we lived them carelessly, as though we could always go again to the seaside in search of treasure.

Today, I choose to forget. I toss the sharp edged complaints and criticism in the sea of experience until they glow like sea glass, tumbled smooth, transformed, revealing care and concern at their core. Something worth keeping.

Today, her photograph smiles without reproach. There is no gift to give save to myself; the gift of forgiveness, that journeys from love, through pain, to loving remembrance.

Today, it does not hurt. And I can move on.

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