Disclaimer: The Twilight series/universe/characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.
The Twilight Twenty-Five
thetwilight25 dot com
Prompt: #2
Pen Name: GetDrunkOnVictory
Pairing/Character(s): Esme/Carlisle
Rating: T
Word Count: 366
Photo prompts can be found here:
thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts
She felt like she was drowning among the albums and boxes that held memories her brain could no longer recollect as easily on its own. Scattered around her were mountains of moments cataloging decades of love.
How was she supposed to pick just the essentials for the service when every moment captured had been essential to her? How was she supposed to celebrate the life he led knowing that with the end of his life she lost hers? How was she supposed to go on when there would be no more handsome face to wake up to? Even at 87 her husband had still been the most handsome man she had ever seen.
She picked up a yellowing photograph from the pile. So many years later and it was still one of her favorites. Her husband had to attend a conference in France, but since they had just had their first child he didn't want to leave his wife alone while he traveled to the other side of the globe. He surprised her by paying one of his nieces to tag along and watch Emmett so he could take his wife to explore one of her favorite cities that she had only visited in books and movies. The picture was of the three of them standing in front of the Eiffel Tower and her son's small hand had been clinging tightly to his father's new beard.
On top of the pile on her right was a picture of her husband and two sons during a family trip to the beach. She remembered that she had been sitting under an umbrella trying to teach their daughter how to use the camera. She was too young to really grasp the concept, but being the youngest, their daughter tended to mimic anything her family did.
Her children were all grown with families of their own. Their own loves to make memories with. They didn't have the time to spend their days with her. Even if they did, it wouldn't have been the same. Not like it was with him.
For the first time since she was a young woman in her early twenties, Esme Anne Platt Cullen felt lost.
AN: Thank you to Pandora's Box is Heavy for prereading despite her lack of internet and to Twilly for pointing out my oddly worded sentences.
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