I wandered aimlessly. I had no direction and wanted none. I was done. There was no fight left in me. I had taken her from doctor to doctor looking for a different diagnosis, a different prognosis, anything that would keep her alive. Nothing worked. No one could save her. I buried her yesterday. I have nothing more to live for. She was my everything. The sun to my moon, the yin to my yang. We were all that ever mattered in my life. Now there’s not even a child to remind me of her. We lost our only child years many ago in infancy. There isn’t even pain now. There’s just a dull ache where she used to fill me up. A vast emptiness that no one will ever be able to fill. Finally, weary to the bone and feeling totally used up I stopped walking. I hadn’t realized that I’d walked so far. The tree is stark but the sun shining through it speaks to me somehow. I don’t quite understand what’s happening but I feel…something. I continue to gaze up at the sun coming through the tree and I realize that maybe, just maybe, I can go on. Like the tree with it’s long, bare branches, I can stand alone and feel something different. Not the things I felt when she was alive, but still something. It really is stunning. The tree and the sun. I realize that I feel an affinity for this tree and that I actually see beauty where I never thought I’d see beauty again. I stood and watched until the sun was so low in the sky that I was afraid that I might get totally lost. With a final backward look, I thanked the setting sun and this beautiful stark tree for the reminder that maybe, just maybe, there was something left for me after all.
I am a 57 year old, single woman who has enjoyed writing on and off for the better part of my life. I have been actively pursuing this hobby for the past year, and have written many short stories and essays both fiction and non-fiction. I especially enjoy writing fiction "chapter books" and have written several. I also enjoy reading, photography and spending my time walking in forested parks where much of my inspiration comes from.