In October I submitted two entries to Write From the Heart with the theme “memories”, this one was shortlisted:
It’s later than you think
A crunch of gravel and frozen leaves underfoot. Breath turns to smoke, rises up and disappears. A thought chases after, but it evaporates too. A sip of hot cocoa spreads warmth through frozen limbs and, like Proust’s madeleine, sends you tumbling through the past.
A crackling fire. Cocooned in wool – the cold still in your cheeks spreads pink blossoms. As she hands you the cocoa, she’s humming an old folk song. She smells, like always, of lavender shampoo, and home.
With one last lingering look at the headstone, you turn towards the gates. It’s always later than you think.
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Beautiful, Sarah. Very moving.
ps – Did you imagine yourself into the future, when I was dead? Or did you think of your grandmother? Or who?
An amalgam perhaps. It’s too painful even to contemplate your death, really…