Until Tomorrow #FFC

In response to Fandango’s flash fiction challenge.

Will try keep these to no more than 200 words. Today the photo below was posted by Fandango as a prompt. Head over to see him, hes a thoroughtly decent chap.

After all of these years, she is still the beautiful girl I fell in love with. Though time has taken its inevitable toll, on both head and heart, there is still that same sparkle in her eyes which so ensnared me what is now a lifetime ago.

Lines paint a picture of a life well lived across her face, and even if now frail, everyone assembled in the room knows she remains a force of such joy and ferocious endeavour, and that she carries still more fervently a love quite fierce and unquenchable for those she calls friends or family, of which assembled now are as many as the days she has lived.

Tears hide that glint now though, and as I stretch out my hand to comfort her she turns slowly to where we spent those many nights, sat quietly, listening to the crackle and hiss of the ‘soundies’ she loved so dearly, and which she taught me to adore nearly as much as I adored her.

I hear my name across the hubbub of the busy room, and somewhere there is an open door as I feel the cold air of December blow through me. It will be Christmas soon. One more reason to celebrate, one more year to look back on. One more year with her.

Children’s voices drift in and out of earshot as I watch her, still light on her feet as she embraces old friends, her silver hair pulled in a tight bun on top of her head. I prefer it when she lets it hang loose, the way it cascades around her face and onto her shoulders, and oh the hours I have spent watching her in front of the mirror brushing it. She would laugh and tell me not to stare so much, but these were some of my happiest moments. Just us. Together.

I feel a tug, pulling me away. Probably one of the grand children I suspect. Cheeks red from the cold and hair tousled, eyes bright and filled with mischief. I allow myself to be led away, and the room becomes quiet. And then, in that moment, a sadness and an understanding descends up on me I look down and I am alone, there is no small hand in mine. I smile as I finger the ring that has sat on my finger these fifty years.

In the distant now I see her turn towards me, my favourite dress of pale blue contrasted against the dark backdrop of the room. She brushes the hair from her face and smiles as I mouth my last goodbye.