Thursday, September 26, 2013
“We were young and in love with the world ahead of us. Seamen told tales of raging seas and sea monsters and gold and new worlds. It was like a fantastical dream. Michael and I wanted our own adventure, our own tale to tell. I remember him one fine summer’s day showing me a huge map with all the lands that we’ve heard people return from. It was magnificent really, so many places to see. He had his arm around me and we had hopes and fantasies like everyone.”
“Tell us more, grandma!” The children said.
She sighed as the memories of a time long past flooded back.
“India was under British rule at the time and America was called the New World. People said it was rich with gold and beauty. We were young and in love.”
A tear trickled down her face.
“The world was full of promise, both real and fake”. She paused to wipe her face. “We wanted to live the dream, get married and have children. but unlike the reveries we spent nights talking about. We journeyed, through pain and hardship, to the New World. We were young and in love.”
“Keep going, grandma! Tell us more about grandpa!” The squealed excitedly.
Wiping her eyes again, she said “I’ll tell you more tomorrow. Now off to bed. Your mother won’t forgive me for keeping you up.”
They left unhappily but with make-up fantasies of their own, while the old lady sat in her rocking chair by the window and let the memories flow like the smooth water of the lake before her.
“I miss you my Michael!”
- Inspired by prompt #38 in the Friday Flash Fiction Contest.