Warnings: none
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst luck, so don't bother me.
Archive: Fine, but if you want it, please ask first.
Feedback: Hell, yes.
Mother's Day
A dark day, rain, wind whipping the edge of his coat, soaking the flowers he places in the vase attached top the headstone and making the muddy path slippery. It should be graded better, maybe covered with gravel or mulch. He'd see to it, make a call, write a check.
His mind goes back twenty-five years to a sun filled room perfumed by a dozen bouquets of roses, lilies of the valley, carnations, lilacs all blending to scent the room. He hears the laughter, feels the warmth of her cheek as he kisses her, handing her the velvet box he'd helped his father pick out a few days before, hears he exclamation of surprise and happiness at the contents and is thanked with another hug.
After a while he returns to the car, lets the back door be opened for him and then hears and feels it close as he settles into the leather seat.
His mind elsewhere, he stares out the tinted window as the car pulls away.
The same rainy day another, younger man ignores the rain, happy to be with old friends, warmed by their unreserved welcome.
He adjusts the grips on his wrists, tests the tension of the ropes holding the trapeze and, satisfied, leaves the small platform. Gaining height and speed, he times his release to the perfect moment, lets go, tucks his body and spins four times, too fast to count. Straightening his body he extends his arms and feels the slap of the catcher's hands on his forearms, his hands finding their own purchase. Halfway through the return swing he releases again, straightens, turns a double layout on his way down to the protective net below. Bouncing to his feet, he flips to the ground, the audience applause mixed with a few wolf-whistles.
Laughing, he waves to the crowd, finished, happy with the day.
Later at dinner; "How was your day?"
"Fine, yours?"
"Incredible—I threw the quad like I was still eight years old. 'Great day. 'You?"
Head down, toying with his uneaten dessert. "I went to visit my mother."
"So did I" as he spoons the mousse into his mouth.
5/8/10