The mood evoked is a peaceful one for me. This is the story I came up with these prompts as anchors:
***
The daughter has become mother to the man in the chair.
The ocean wind ruffles his white hair and he whispers in time to the rhythm of the incoming tide. His wife was long lost as ash spread on the beach one summer day many years ago. Lost to wind. Lost to sun. Lost to sea. But not lost to memory.
He lives a quiet life lived behind sunlit curtains. The sound of water tickling coarse sand fills his time with peaceful noise.
His daughter pushes his wheelchair down the narrow hallway to his study room after sunset. This is where he regards the coffee stained books with admiration and awe. These are the books his famous wife dedicated to him, and to their only child. His unending support of her career and her legacy has gifted him more time than he needs.
He turns to his child and asks her the same question he never tires of asking and she never tires of answering.
“Can you please read me to sleep tonight?”
For a few minutes before sleep claims him one last time he can picture her through her words.
His daughter will mourn and then celebrate his passing with a walk to the ocean. She will listen as he taught her to listen and then read her mother’s words with a watery whisper.
The mood evoked is a peaceful one for me. This is the story I came up with these prompts as anchors:
***
The daughter has become mother to the man in the chair.
The ocean wind ruffles his white hair and he whispers in time to the rhythm of the incoming tide. His wife was long lost as ash spread on the beach one summer day many years ago. Lost to wind. Lost to sun. Lost to sea. But not lost to memory.
He lives a quiet life lived behind sunlit curtains. The sound of water tickling coarse sand fills his time with peaceful noise.
His daughter pushes his wheelchair down the narrow hallway to his study room after sunset. This is where he regards the coffee stained books with admiration and awe. These are the books his famous wife dedicated to him, and to their only child. His unending support of her career and her legacy has gifted him more time than he needs.
He turns to his child and asks her the same question he never tires of asking and she never tires of answering.
“Can you please read me to sleep tonight?”
For a few minutes before sleep claims him one last time he can picture her through her words.
His daughter will mourn and then celebrate his passing with a walk to the ocean. She will listen as he taught her to listen and then read her mother’s words with a watery whisper.