Untold Love
No, her mother always pointed toward the western sky as the sun sank lower and lower, clouds of orange and purple mingling with the still-blue sky, and said, "See there, Chrissie? There's your daddy. Wave to him. He's telling you he loves you, and he'll see you again tomorrow when the sun comes up over there."
She parked on the top of the deck and rested her head on the steering wheel. She didn't remember much about her father, only flashes. Brown, cheerful eyes, a kind smile, and lots and lots of tubes and wires and beeps. The cancer took hold, hard and fast, and within three months of finding out, her mother was a widow. Chrissie had only been five; Dena, two.
Twenty-five years late
Bab Populer