Memories

• Chloe Dennison, Grade 10, Marist Regional College
• Short Story
• 2015

Finalist in the 'Beyond Words 2015' competition

There was a woman. A small woman. A frail woman. She was only skin and bones. Yet her eyes. Her eyes could warm the bleakest parts of your soul. She woke. Rubbing sleep from her gentle eyes. She turned to look at me. How strange must I look. A broad man holding a delicate tray of china. She sat up.
***
There was a man. A tall man. A broad man. He was all beef and muscle. Yet his eyes. They held so much love and beauty. They didn’t match his tough exterior. They suited his dainty tea set better. He spoke.
***
‘Good morning sunshine,’ I greeted her. ‘How did you sleep?’ She looked around before answering. Scanning. Eyebrows pulled together. Hair tumbling over her shoulder. Pure beauty. Oh I am a blessed man.
She replied.
***
‘I slept…fine, thank you,’ I returned. These sheets. These sheets felt peculiar. These walls. These walls looked foreign. Memories. The broad man. The broad man looked at home. So much was trapped in this room. Memories. He moved.
***
I walked to her. I laid down the tea tray on the night stand. Beauty. What beauty sat before me. Her eyes. You could happily get lost in those eyes. Her lips. Told stories that would make you never stop listening. Her hair. A flowing river of auburn down her spine. Beauty. Pure beauty. She turned.
***
I saw it. Sitting next to the tea. A photograph. There was the broad man with a woman. A small woman. A frail woman. She was only skin and bones. They held each other in their arms. Love. There was so much love in their eyes. Smiles. Spread across their faces. Love. True love. He reached.
***
I picked up the photograph.
‘Magical day that was. Do you remember?’ She stared blankly back. I continued. She wasn’t awake enough to remember. She could never forget this.
‘We danced all night long. You looked stunning as always in your gown. It was the happiest day.’ I looked at her. Twelve years later. She’s still mine. Oh, I am a blessed man. She looked.
***
A wedding day. Our wedding day. Twelve years ago. Wedding. Marriage. Husband. My husband, the broad man. I stood next to him in the photograph. Smiling. Twelve years ago. I looked so happy. He put down the photograph. His eyes were on me. Eyes. Twelve years ago, I knew those eyes. He stood.
***
There was a woman. A small woman. A frail woman. She was only skin and bones. Yet her eyes. Her eyes warmed my soul. The love of my life. Twelve years of marriage. I’ve never been happier. I love her. I love her. I stood.
‘I’ll let you sleep sunshine. Your tea is on the nightstand.’
I kissed her on the forehead. She flinched.
***
There was a man. A broad man. A tall man. He was all beef and muscle. Yet his eyes. They held so much love and beauty. Twelve years of marriage. Over four thousand days of love and compassion. Yet every day, I forget him all over again.