Flashtober Day 3

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Flashtober Day 3: The Garden

I wish I could tell you that this will never end. I wish I could tell you that the land of early mornings in the garden with soft pajamas and warm teas with lemon, chocolate chip cookies and not a care to be found. Tables hidden under leaves of sage and rosemary, tiny lights strung through the branches, competing with the stars in the cold as the sun threatens to break out; trading off with the moon.

The seats are hard and cold and uncomfortable, but welcoming and forgiving. Familiar in their own way. Chipped white paint and stains mark memories. Chipped plates from love and use. It’s cold, now. That old robe with the holes and stains always provided so much warmth despite how destroyed it was. There could be fire. There should be fire. But there isn’t. It is it’s in the center of a field all alone, lonely in its own way without ever needing anyone or anything. Somehow that is more than enough.

There is no passageway in or out. There is no physical tunnel or door or fence that leads anywhere, but just sitting down in the awning, surrounded by leaves and flowers is somehow enough to take you anywhere that you needed or wanted to be, even for just a little while.

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