A nice chat

Just past midnight after a long Saturday. That means it’s Sunday Photo Fiction day! I haven’t been doing this for too long, but this is easily my favorite photo I’ve seen on here. There’s little better way to describe it than art. Nice work, Al!

Image

I fought the urge to brush away the cherry blossoms. From far away, they’d reminded me of dust bunnies scattered on my mother’s grave. But up close … well, they looked like cream-colored tears.

I read the inscription on the tombstone for what seemed like the millionth time:

Lauren P. Withers

Mother, Wife, Friend

1925-1986

“I miss you, Mom. Thirteen years apart. It’s been so hard. But worse than that, I’ll never see you again.”

I swirled a few of the petals across the grave, careful not to move them off the stone. I wasn’t going to do that. The tears were too beautiful to be cleaned up.

“I just wish I could talk to you one last time. Just to say, hi. Maybe have a chat.”

A soft breeze rustled the branches. And I found myself awash in a new wave of cherry blossom petals cascading around me.

I smiled.

“Nice talking to you.”

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