Everyday | Photo Prompt

Working with this image as a prompt, the first thing that came to mind was a supernatural story, but I decided to turn it around and write about the pains we put a lid on everyday. We wears masks over our grief in order to survive.

I hope it finds you well.

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She awoke in stages. First, there was the sound of crickets at dawn. She had tossed and turned, trying to make it disappear. Then the chirping of birds directly outside the window. She had opened one eye and shut it again, groaning at the little light filtering in through the curtains. It was yet another day, and as it had been for the past four months, she was exhausted. She moved her right hand and it collided with something. Frowning, she opened both her eyes. The frown disappeared as she stared at the photos scattered on the bed. She had slept with them yet again.

There was a look in her eyes as she took them in. They had lost their brightness and filled with sadness and pain the first weeks, but as time passed, they grew deeper than that. This time, they were filled with tenderness, with grief lurking around the corners. Her lips quivered as she tried to force a smile. She traced the happy faces staring back at her. She didn't notice when a tear slipped.

She sniffed and gathered the photos. There were days when she believed she couldn't survive any of it. There were also days she had to scold herself into existence. But she had crossed that stage. All she did now was live by the day. Some might say that four months was enough time to make peace with it. But then they hadn't been there. She was also tired of telling her story, like people called it. She had lived with scars all her life, but this was the most significant. To her, this wasn't just a scar. Those could always heal. This was a hollow, a vacuum nothing could fill.

The tears were flowing freely now. They made her angry sometimes. She wiped her cheeks briefly and stood on wobbly legs. She had watched everything unfold in front of her, from day one to the last. There was a time she believed miracles could happen and all would work out well. She had been wrong. She had watched life leave the person she loved the most, had called the name over and over. Maybe saying it again and again could have done the trick – and fixed it – but it didn't. Instead, the body grew colder and colder.

She walked to the bathroom and turned on the water. She had decided to take people's advice and look after herself. She had made peace with the grief. She wasn't trying to hide behind it anymore, that only made it nastier. It wasn't going anywhere, she knew. So she embraced it. She was done torturing herself.

The good memories made it easier. She tried to remember the laughter and teasing. The darkest days won sometimes but she was getting there. Being on work leave at this point wasn't the best thing nor was it the worst. There were times she would rather be buried in work in order to forget and get by. There were also times she would rather not see anybody's face. But she was glad it happened this way. She needed time alone to find her feet again.

Today, however, she was back on the job. She was glad she finally had some colour on her face. She had been so pale she thought she might be getting ill. There was a calmness this morning as she put on her work clothes. Maybe she had gotten to that place without even realising it. She took one more look at the photos and nodded. She needed all the strength she could get.

"I'll always love you Mum," she whispered and picked up her bag.

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Maybe this story is more about me than I realised. I've been boxing so much these past weeks that this is like a relief, kind of. What are your thoughts?

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