Her silk scarf
100 words on holding joy and sorrow.
Hello, hello!
I’m writing today from Schiphol Airport. I’ve been up since 4:30 am, so I'm knackered. K. and I are headed to Pennsylvania for a small gathering to celebrate my mom at her childhood home this weekend, so it feels like a good time to share a related tiny (exactly 100-word) story that I’ve been writing and rewriting for a few weeks. It’s time to let it go! You’ll receive this while I’m in the air, but feel free to say hi in the comments, and I’ll reply soon from the land of jet lag. ♡
Her silk scarf
“You look like Granny!” my 10-year-old niece said, smiling, eyes wide.
I was showing her my outfit for my mom’s celebration of life. The silk scarf I inherited was draped over my shoulders. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I noticed my red, puffy face as I looked at my niece through my iPhone.
“Oh no,” she said. “I made you cry again.”
The last time was on another video call, when she sang a song she wrote for Granny. Something about the clouds, the sky, and being free.
“It’s OK,” I said. “I’m happy to share these moments with you.”
See you soon,
Alexis
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Using an object to get into memories of a loved one is beautiful.
I will not get to Devon this weekend, but as ever, I will be holding Amy close to my heart. And you as well. Peace.