Youth and beauty had faded. Her shaking hands were caressing an old photograph; it showed a young woman laughing happily, and a handsome man who looked at her, absolutely in love.
Her lips were quivering, and tears welled up in her eyes, she remembered him well. He had been the one who got away; her one true love. She didn’t know what had become of him; lives had interfered. Responsibilities had driven them apart. He had been married, and she had been too. They both had had children and lives apart. There was never a chance for them to be a real couple. And yet, they had met.
For a week, they had been able to live their lives together, deeply and madly in love. Six days that had been spent on a Mediterranean Island in an all-inclusive resort. Just the two of them. She couldn’t remember what they had done during these days, if there had been adventures or visits; her memory was foggy from old age. But she knew that they had made love. A lot. They had connected on a special, unique level. But it had not been enough.
She looked down at the picture again an smiled a watery smile. If she had been brave, she would have fled her life to be with him, but she had not been. She had gone back to her husband and her life, and had almost disappeared in her longing heart. They had written emails and called each other late at night. But they had never met again. Less and lesser they got in touch, until they became memories in the other’s life.
Years went by, and all that was left of her life was a box with fading pictures, a couple of regrets, and the question of what would have become of her life if she had been courageous. She sighed and hid the picture in her pile again. Remembering good times was exhausting. She put the box away and shuffled to her chair. It was raining outside. The downpour became the backdrop noise of her second nap that day. In her dreams, she met him again, young and beautiful.
(I almost skipped this post. I am having a migraine and my shoulder hurts… These a to z posts were all written late at night, improvised and following an impulsive creative urge. They were not premeditated or edited. I wrote them and scheduled them for a couple of minutes after midnight, then I put my phone in airplane mode and tried to sleep. Tonight was not all that different…)