We thought we were so grown up sitting in that restaurant by the sea. Soft music played and fairy lights twinkled there at dusk. You put your hand over mine and laughed when I slurped the soup.
We had our beginnings in Cornwall. Now it’s time to watch you leave, to go on and make your life beautiful.
I always found peace here, yet you never could.
“Good luck,” he said.
Hurlers. I wanted them to swirl, to lift me up with the wind, to dance like they used to. But all around them was snow. I gathered it up in my hands. I ran laughing and playing in the cold.
The dogs barked and I knew I was home.
Eventually, we climbed to the top of a boulder and our eyes found their way across the fields, the green and the ever-crowding trees.
I had strawberries and they tasted fresh in the age old land.