His eyes are a shade of green I can't quite put a name to. Muddy, overwhelming, pain might come close, and maybe that's why it seems so familiar. Because his arms, clad in the faded homespun my mother once made, feel like home.
He's a sad, lovely s...
Her pale pink robe had loosened and was flowing against her slim figure as she moved around the dark kitchen. The brazenness of it all had made me weak at the knees which I had hoped to disguise by collapsing into the nearest chair upon entry.
Yet she continued to amaze me.
Or frustrate me.
And I couldn't tell if I was drunk on this night or just the idea of it.
I watched as she scrambled around to put the tea away and escape from me. And even in the moonlight I could see frustration in her eyes that mimicked mine.
I buried my face in my hands and berated myself. I did not want to talk about Margaret. And yet, there is was bringing her up as if it was nothing.
"Goodnight Harry," I heard her whisper with an edge to her voice the felt familiar.
I lifted my head to respond but when I looked she was already gone.
The frustration had now far surpassed amazement and that familiar feeling of anger took its home in my bones. Anger with my sister for something that wasn't remotely her fault. Angry I would never see her again. Angry that time was not healing the wounds or making it any easier as everyone had said it would. Angry that I had missed one last glimpse of Kitty as she walked away, barefoot and uninhibited like a creature yet to be in one of my dreams.
I sipped my tea that had now grown cold and debated what I should do. One hand on my tea cup and one in my pocket making sure that that letter I would never send was still there. Had I always been a coward?
I had been in war for years without breaking. But oh, when the breaking point had come it had swallowed me whole.
There, in the darkness where I wallowed, I could see a feminine hand. Rough from hard work and yet still so beautiful. And I wondered maybe if I took hold of it it might be the hand to pull me out.
Yet I was scared. Terrified of the chance that taking that hand might pull another broken soul down with me.
I couldn't have that.
I may be a coward but I wouldn't be selfish.
She wasn't. She was beautiful. She was like the stars.
But I had grown accustomed to the safety of a starless night.
My knee ached as I stood slowly from my seat. The pain helped. I grabbed my old jacket and slipped it back on before shoving my cap securely back on my head when suddenly I heard someone running down the stairs.
"Harry," she called as she entered the kitchen her hair wild and her eye red. From the look on her face I knew. Her breathing was heavy and I felt a strange, sudden urge to put my arms around her as she broke apart.
"Could you run for the doctor please?" she asked quietly, all her typical confidence vanished.
Silently I nodded my response and to my great surprise or relief she fell into my arms. ___________________________________ So sorry it took longgggg. But look, it's me. I made it to my new home in Lebanon.
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(View from my apartment.) So I was a little overwhelmed by the inter-continental move. Anyways... more's coming today. So hopefully this short little update can hold you over till the good stuff comes.
