Holed Up

Hiding inside a cave formed by the roots of an ancient felled oak, I contemplate the direction of my life. It’s been a while since she left – so long now that I’ve begun to forget her features. I remember with a sense of knowing rather than with my mind’s eye that her eyes are blue and her fingers when she worked in the garden would become the same loamy colour as my surroundings. It’s the scent of rotting vegetation which brings back to me with a smile of bitter longing the days spent outside, enjoying the summer sunshine.

Now, as I crouch here within a womb of timeless yet ephemeral growth, I envision her passing as I saw her last, when I waved goodbye to her, she on her way to the store and me, on my bike.

Being holed up here increases my appetite to see her once again. I hope mom brings home cookies and ice cream.


About LindaGHill

There's a writer in here, clawing her way out.

5 comments on “Holed Up

  1. It’s the least Mom can do. Wonderful story. Didn’t see the end coming. *smiles*

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