First Winter After the Divorce
Breathless, she steadies herself against the front door, turns to survey all she’s done. A clear path shoveled through the snow. She realizes she’s smiling, unforced.
Her son hoists the head onto a snowman, the ground around him rubbed with snow angels. “Good job, Mom!” he calls. She does a little bow.
There’s nothing of the past in this moment. No fearful future. Just the truth of clean, right-angles of concrete; the V of winter geese barking overhead; sky, cloudless and shockingly blue; melting snow dripping off the roofline. Her heart, bucking hard inside her chest, reminding her she’s alive.
Photo Credit: Luke Jones
awesome story bruv truly beautiful
Love
I could feel every minute of it,the warmth of the cold,it that makes any sense.Great!
Beautiful descriptions – I love it!
ok so basically im monky
“Just the truth of clean, right-angles of concrete;“ . . . brilliant. Powerful moment in time. Well done.
So beautifully written that I could almost see the vapor from my breath and feel the aching of a mending heart. Jennifer has a natural gift.
Powerful!
Excellent story (with the perfect title, too – sometimes, titles do matter!).