George and Alice

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we…this one is in response to the Weaving Words prompt.


The old clock in the hall struck seven as George sat down at his writing table as he did every night.  He opened the drawer and took out the pen she had given him on their 25th anniversary, then carefully took a sheet of the finest paper from a sheath and placed it on the desk in front of him.

He rolled the pen between his fingers and smiled as he read the inscription:

“My heart remains yours always.”

He pulled his chair to the desk, made himself comfortable and began to write.

 

My dearest Alice

Winter has come at last it seems, and the days grow shorter and we have had the first flakes of snow this evening.   Fortunately I have a good store of wood this year, and the new people on the Henderson farm have assured me they have plenty to spare should I run short.  They seem very nice, though I am not quite sure they are cut out for this life.  Time will tell.

I took a walk by the river this morning, the air cold and crisp and the skies blue with the feintest whisper of cloud.  Sadly the old bridge we built at Millers crossing has collapsed, and I fear age would insist that I am now well beyond repairing it.

Such memories it brought back and I remembered the yellow dress you wore the day we finished it.  It seems like only yesterday, and the smile you wore with it remains with me to this day.  As time passes it’s funny the things we remember and those we forget.  The smallest details of our life together I still recall and yet major events now seem like a story told to me by someone else.

Sometimes I do wonder whether I have forgotten days we spent together, yet my heart remains full of those that are still so clear to me.

My heart remains yours always

George

Gently placing the pen on the desk George then folded the paper and placed it in an envelope that he pulled from the bottom drawer.  Sealing it he then took a bundle of identical envelopes and slowly unknotted the string that bound them together.

Taking up the pen he wrote ‘Alice’ on the front and then bundled it with the others, refastening them together with the old coarse string and placing them back in the drawer.

He smiled as he stood from the desk, pushed the chair back in and turned out the light.

It had been a good day, she would have enjoyed it he thought smiling to himself as he climbed the stairs to bed.