3.13.2012

   She remembered her mother's manicured nails. Painted and perfectly polished in her favorite red coral, a simple gold band on her left hand. Her hands hummed gracefully through every act whether chopping tomatoes, tipping her afternoon cocktail, or carefully tracing the words across the page as she guided her little girl through her reading each night. Curled up against the sweet scent of Hibiscus and gin, tomorrows seemed promised forever.
   Those memories came now, hard and thick, on dark nights since the disease crept through her mother's body. An icy spider that stole her from this world too young for her years, too soon for this little girl's fragile heart. Empty corners seemed to multiply since she had left.
  She especially remembered on nights like tonight, as she painfully sounded out the words that taunted her from the page.."per-fect-ly man-i-cured Hi-bis-cus...

2 comments:

Optimistic Existentialist said...

This is one of the most tragically beautiful things I've ever read...amazing.

Charity said...

I appreciate your words. Seeds down in thirsty soil, inspiration for growing prose!