Wednesday's Words on a Friday

 

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words.

This month the words/prompts are supplied by Hilary Melton-Butcher and can be found here

This week's words/prompts are: 

1. jubilant 2. ginger 3. shimmering 4. beachcombing 5. smudge 6. Rosetta Stone 

and/or: 

1. charcoal 2. wool 3. toga 4. abyss 5. coffee 6. leaves

Here is my story:

We were reminiscing by the fire after coming home from the restaurant. Our children had treated us to an anniversary dinner and we’d been discussing them and the dinner, when Kevin fell silent. I let him think for a moment, then nudged him gently. “Where are you?” I asked. He turned to me and said, “I was thinking of the day before we met. That day, sitting in the Greek Café, I was staring into the abyss of loneliness, wondering if I would ever meet someone to love, and then there you were, wearing that Toga and carrying cups of Greek coffee to the next table.”

“I remember,” I said. “You’d come down from the north of Europe and in the heat of Greek summer you still wore that charcoal wool coat.” “I hadn’t bothered with new clothing more suited to the summer,” Kevin said. “I had been contemplating going home and becoming a hermit, then you asked if I was ready to order, and in an instant, my life was perfect. I read your name tag and asked for a “coffee please Nanette” and I’ve never regretted a single minute since.”

“Forty years of joy,” I sighed, “with a few ups and downs, but nothing we couldn’t overcome as long as we had each other. I fell in love the same moment you did.” Kevin said, “I remember the next day, you took me to see the beach, I had never seen such a blue and so much shimmering white sand!” “And the beachcombing the next week after that huge storm blew in,” I said. “We found that lovely piece of driftwood,” said Kevin and look across to where it sat on the bookshelf. A solid log, weirdly shaped, we’d had it cleaned and polished before posting it back to my parents to hold for us.

“We already knew we would marry,” said Kevin, “yet I was still jubilant when you said yes.” “I looked into your eyes and saw the rest of my life,” I said. “I also saw babies with ginger hair just like yours,” I swirled the tea leaves in the bottom of my near empty cup, wondering what a reader would make of the pattern. "White hair now," said Kevin, "but you still have a little colour in yours, the under layers are still smudge brown."