Shutting the door, she bit her lip and heaved a sigh. Yes,
tomorrow. Tomorrow would be a brand new day. But right now she had all she
could do to deal with the remainder of tonight.
She wandered into her bedroom and switched on the wall lamp
near the doorway. Soft light flooded the room. On top of the bureau was her
burgundy velvet jewelry box. Kyle. Her
gaze drifted to his photo next to it. His image smiled back at her, the smile
that always flashed in her mind whenever she thought about him. She must've had
a dozen or more pictures of Kyle situated around the duplex, she thought with a
pang. But this one had always been her favorite. Balling her hands into fists,
she pulled her eyes away.
Through the bedroom walls, from the other side, she heard
the muffled tones of the television. Cheerful sounds. A sitcom, perhaps. Canned
laughter. Slowly she lifted the lid of
the jewelry box. In the uppermost compartment, nestled in the plush layer of
velvet was the simple gold band she'd given Kyle on their wedding day. Seeing
it, her heart seemed to turn inside out. What was she doing, taking off her
rings? she wondered desperately. Was she turning her back on everything that
they'd shared? The good times, and sometimes not so good? Their hopes and
dreams? Their plans for the future?
“Oh, Kyle,” she murmured, tears springing to her eyes. “You
do understand, don't you? This . . . this is something I've put off, but now I
must do it. The time is right. But please know, I’ll cherish your memory
always. I'll always love you.” She swallowed hard. It felt as if an ice cube
was lodged in the throat. The tears fell, one after the next, tracking salty
trails down her cheeks as she twisted the rings over her knuckles and then
slipped them completely off.
In the lamplight, the diamond sparkled, flashing prisms of
light. She traced her finger over it, then for a moment held it up to her lips.
Blinking rapidly, hands trembling, she placed it in the jewelry box next to the
gold band, shut the lid, then turned and walked away.
Through the bedroom walls, she could still hear the sounds
of canned laughter.
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Great choice of the six Sydell! Happy Easter.
ReplyDeleteThat's heart-wrenching. That moment of letting go can bring unimaginable pain and relief. {sigh} Thanks for sharing. Wonderful 6, Sydell.
ReplyDeleteHave a wonderful weekend!
I came, I saw, I read, and I liked a whole lot. Shared on all the venues. Thanks for being part of the group.
ReplyDeleteA very poignant six paragraphs.
ReplyDeleteWhat a touching bit from your book. It reminded me of when I removed my rings after my divorce. I'd wore them 32 years so it was like someone died. Great choice, and very moving. Thanks for being part of the group.
ReplyDeleteA very belated Happy Easter to you also, Jamie!
ReplyDeleteHi Taryn,
ReplyDeleteYes, I was hoping to capture that bittersweet moment of letting go. Thanks for taking the time to comment. I always enjoy hearing from you.
Ginger, it's my pleasure. Thanks for all your support.
ReplyDeleteHi Rhobin,
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you visited my blog again. Thanks for your appreciative comments.
Yes, Ginger, I can well imagine that after 36 years, it would feel the same way as if someone had died. I'm glad, though, that you could connect with this scene.
ReplyDelete