We Can't

Violet

The family hotel we go to is very close to the private beach we just visited. It’s a small, cozy house that has beautiful, local flowers in the garden at the front.

“It looks more like a home than a hotel. “

I say as we take the steps to the veranda.

“In a way it is. “

Dominic opens the door for me and invites me in.

The woman at the reception is older than us - almost the same age my mother would be if she was alive.

Gray, long hair and tanned skin. I don’t tell myself “She was beautiful when she was young '' because I don’t believe in this- women are beautiful at any age. There’s no “was beautiful '' there's “she is beautiful. “

The woman looks up from her notebook as she hears our approaching footsteps.

She gasps, surprise blossoming on her face.

“Dominic!”

the woman exclaims and spreads her arms wide.

She moves past the counter and comes to hug him. The woman is wearing a long, colourful dress which makes her look even prettier.

“What are you doing h