Weathering the Storm
They’re called life’s storms, those days when waves desert the shore, churn up and down instead. High on my shelf I watch myself, flailing, drowning, wed to uncertainty. He doesn’t ask about my day, but did I remember this, do that, go out to buy the other. I say I will, then filled with resentment don’t ask how his day went either.
It’s not his fault, or mine, I know. The son leaves soon; the sun—skies turning gray like the last cloak of summer. Life’s storms are just the passing of time and I'm glad we’re sharing the boat.
Written for Gather's Wednesday Writing Essentials:
The prompt was
* write about "love lost" or "love found"
* do NOT use the following words: love, hope, kiss, or forever
* answer the question of where
* even if the piece is fiction, reveal something true about yourself