Words

A cold and silent night. Late January.
A house, enclosed by the trees, the sky and the earth alone.

Inside the house, a room. Big, inviting, nearly spartan in it's design.

In this room, a woman. Tall, lost in her thoughts, holding a glass.

Inside the woman's glass, there is Whisky.
Inside the woman's thoughts, there is chaos.
Inside the woman's heart, there is insecurity.

She is sitting inside a very old, comfortable chair. It resembles a throne more than
anything else. And it dwarfs her. She lets it dwarf her. With a swift movement she pulls a
heavy blanket towards her to hug herself in it.

The fireplace is directly before her, only a few feet away. She can see the flames playing
with the wood. She can hear it crackle. She can feel its warmth on her face.

And then a tear appears. And another. And another...

This brought it all back.

It was his chair. It was his blanket. It was his Whisky.
His favourite room. His favourite season. His love.

It was nearly a year to the day she lost him. It had been a bad year.
She was like a robot at first. A cold bitch after that. And a bitter widow at last.
But this was all coming to an end...

The tears started it. Her heart and her mind and her soul continued. She remembered it
all again: Their first years. The courting. The awkward silence when he met her parents.
The wedding. The time in Amazonia. The nice colonial house in Boston. Their move to England.

All the sad times. All the fun times. All the fights and all the love. And always the positive
thoughts won. They were more intense. They felt more real. They brought more tears.

She never really knew how long she had been sitting and crying there, whenever she
remembered this day. The day she finally allowed herself to grieve his loss.
To accept her feelings. To re-discover that she was able to feel them again.

After a time, the fire was silent now, only the last small flames still alive, tickling the
charred wood, she raised the glass towards the sky and whispered a few words before
drinking the last drops of his favourite reserve. It was the first night in a year she slept well.
The first morning in a year she woke with a smile. She was ready to live again...

She was alone back then, but the house would always remember.
The room would always remember.
The sky and the trees would always remember.

"I'm sorry... I love you. I will see you soon. But I will be able to tell you some more funny stories then. I miss you..."

The words that started a new life.