Irene Serenity
Paused Between Seasons
...For a moment, time stands still, the wind carried a whisper of salt from the sea as she sat quietly on the porch, her legs crossed, the soft warmth of the autumn sun settling on her skin. Beside her, a gray cat purred softly, tail flicking lazily to the rhythm of the breeze.
It was the kind of day that felt paused between seasons—summer still lingering in the sky, but the scent of dry grass and ripening apples signaling the arrival of fall. She glanced at the spilled basket of apples, red and glistening like drops of early evening light. She hadn’t meant to; they had simply slipped as her thoughts wandered again to him.
This was the first autumn without him.
They used to do everything together this time of year. She could still hear his laugh echoing across the fields and feel the rough warmth of his hand when he’d grab hers during late walks by the shore.
Now, the house was quieter. Not empty, but changed.
She reached down and picked up one of the apples. She turned it in her hands, the skin smooth, the color deep and rich. Life had a way of spilling over when you weren’t looking—like that basket. You could mourn the mess, or you could gather what you could and carry on.
“I miss you,” she whispered to the wind. The cat meowed as if in agreement, then nestled closer to her.
A soft rustling in the sky above drew her eyes. Birds flying south, their wings like brushstrokes on the canvas of sky. She smiled faintly.
There was still beauty here. Still peace. And the apples—just like her — had a season left in them.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_m1UV1eMAE
Picture taken at : maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/PixelDust/217/214/22
Paused Between Seasons
...For a moment, time stands still, the wind carried a whisper of salt from the sea as she sat quietly on the porch, her legs crossed, the soft warmth of the autumn sun settling on her skin. Beside her, a gray cat purred softly, tail flicking lazily to the rhythm of the breeze.
It was the kind of day that felt paused between seasons—summer still lingering in the sky, but the scent of dry grass and ripening apples signaling the arrival of fall. She glanced at the spilled basket of apples, red and glistening like drops of early evening light. She hadn’t meant to; they had simply slipped as her thoughts wandered again to him.
This was the first autumn without him.
They used to do everything together this time of year. She could still hear his laugh echoing across the fields and feel the rough warmth of his hand when he’d grab hers during late walks by the shore.
Now, the house was quieter. Not empty, but changed.
She reached down and picked up one of the apples. She turned it in her hands, the skin smooth, the color deep and rich. Life had a way of spilling over when you weren’t looking—like that basket. You could mourn the mess, or you could gather what you could and carry on.
“I miss you,” she whispered to the wind. The cat meowed as if in agreement, then nestled closer to her.
A soft rustling in the sky above drew her eyes. Birds flying south, their wings like brushstrokes on the canvas of sky. She smiled faintly.
There was still beauty here. Still peace. And the apples—just like her — had a season left in them.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_m1UV1eMAE
Picture taken at : maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/PixelDust/217/214/22