Friday, May 7, 2010


I stared at the picture in it's wooden fame. The colors were faded, but I could still make out the sunshine and blue crests of waves. A single bird flew toward a thick white cloud. It was stained in one corner, made wet by the tears that flowed the day I found it in my daughter's journal. A small piece of art that represented a dream of going to the ocean to visit her aunt. A dream taken away when the other driver crossed the center line. I felt my heart tighten and my throat squeeze. My fingers ran shakily over the glass, showing the picture a tenderness that I wished I could show my daughter. I wondered when my misery would lift and I could recognize sunshine outside of this picture. I both wished for and dreaded that day.

*** One Minute Writer ***


  1. Another painful piece. well written. Although I feel like "crossed the center line" is a bit over used almost cliche.

  2. Yeah it is. I'll take you up on a better choice of words that clearly shifts blame to keep the child in question snow white innocent in the story.