Postcard to my husband

The lake beats on the shore like the heart of the forest. I lay awake for hours listening. I just can’t sleep without your chest under my head. The old quilt still has that musky smell that made you sneeze. At night, covering our naked bodies from the chill in the wind and the heat in the air. During the day, flying like our flag on the clothesline. I don’t dare hang it outside this year, for fear I may lose you again along with the scent.

I wish I had brought the children this time. But the grandkids would have distracted me. Standing knee deep in the water, as the sun spilled over the horizon reminded me of the times we went skinny dipping, when the children went to bed, and then after they had grown. This is our last time in the lake together.

It was a marvelous dip. I waited for a wind, and took the lid off your urn, and thrust you across the air. You twisted and turned and dove towards the water, disappearing through the currant, as you had so often done off the pier. But this time, you would not surface. I waited there, for you to materialize from the water, and after a time, I realized you wouldn’t and walked back to the cabin, wondering what to do with the urn now.

Wish you were here
love….