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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Memory / Reminiscence
- Published: 05/29/2023
"A soft goodbye."
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United StatesHe read the email. It was short. She never was one to chatter much. She spoke little, but always from the heart. He had always liked that about her. She was a good listener. Her words tended to be quiet, soft, but don’t be fooled. When she was defending someone she loved, her words were like Iron. Glib was a word that no one used around her.
In the early years, it was letters that flowed. late in Life it was emails. In the end...they all led to the same place:
It was goodbye.
It took her just seven words to say it.
It took him a lifetime to accept it.
He smiled as he closed the scrapbook with her picture in it. He only had three pictures of them together. He wrapped them with a purple ribbon. Printed out her email, and- like a Buddhist, put them in a small bowl and set them aflame. He watched as the photos curled in the heat. The smoke drifted up and away. And soon, all that was left…were ashes.
He blew a kiss to the smoke. Scraped the ashes around the base of the rose bush in the front yard, straightened up…looked up at the sky…and smiled.
He might think of her again. But he would never write her.
He hit the delete key…once.
He now had only the future to hold onto.
And one less email address.
"A soft goodbye."(Kevin Hughes)
He read the email. It was short. She never was one to chatter much. She spoke little, but always from the heart. He had always liked that about her. She was a good listener. Her words tended to be quiet, soft, but don’t be fooled. When she was defending someone she loved, her words were like Iron. Glib was a word that no one used around her.
In the early years, it was letters that flowed. late in Life it was emails. In the end...they all led to the same place:
It was goodbye.
It took her just seven words to say it.
It took him a lifetime to accept it.
He smiled as he closed the scrapbook with her picture in it. He only had three pictures of them together. He wrapped them with a purple ribbon. Printed out her email, and- like a Buddhist, put them in a small bowl and set them aflame. He watched as the photos curled in the heat. The smoke drifted up and away. And soon, all that was left…were ashes.
He blew a kiss to the smoke. Scraped the ashes around the base of the rose bush in the front yard, straightened up…looked up at the sky…and smiled.
He might think of her again. But he would never write her.
He hit the delete key…once.
He now had only the future to hold onto.
And one less email address.
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