I walk along the rocky path, enjoying the sunset. The sun paints the clouds a beautiful red-gold, softening the transition to darkness. A light breeze rustles my khaki’s, but leaves the water placid. As if Nature herself knows that such beauty needs to be reflected purely. The sky darkens from its omnipresent blue to a deeper purple.
Oh, how I wish she were here to see it. No painting, no sculpture, no form of art yet known to man, can match this sight. Certainly not my paltry words. We can only capture it. One brief moment of perfection.
Even then it pales before the experience.
I pull out her photo. One of a happier time. Her green eyes twinkle with mirth as her light brown hair flies from the force of her laughter. That one brief moment of perfection.
As the sun sets and darkness descends, the perfection ends. As it must with all perfection.
I try not to remember those twinkling eyes darkened by pain. Nor that beautiful hair growing dull and falling out. I stare at her picture, trying–hoping it will take the place of those memories.
It’s still too soon. I fear it will always be too soon.
I open the urn and the breeze carries the ash over the water, near the spot where I proposed. During a sunset not unlike this one. Perfection.
Darkness claims the light. I walk along the rocky path.
Away from perfection.
This story is for the Cognitive Reflection Picture Writing Challenge #15. If anyone is interested in participating please feel free to click on the link.