| General Fiction posted September 17, 2024 |
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In the stillness of the night
Starlight Chat
by Begin Again
Silence wrapped around Sadie like a familiar cloak, comforting her as she stared at the indigo sky, all aglow.
"It's so peaceful tonight. You can almost hear the stars twinkling, can't you?"
She chuckled, knowing what he was thinking.
"I know, I know! You've told me a thousand times that they aren't twinkling — they're singing."
She paused, rubbing her wrinkled hands together before placing them in her lap. Her thoughts drifted.
"When Katie was a baby, you always told her they were singing lullabies. Then, when she was older, and she decided to join the army, they were songs of honor and country. And when she didn't come home —"
She choked and wiped the salty drips of moisture from her cheeks. Finally, after gathering her thoughts and packing them away, she sighed and sat staring at the sky.
"Sorry! I needed a moment. Sometimes the memories — well, I don't have to tell you, now do I?"
She glanced at the empty rocking chair, tugging her worn sweater tighter around her as more memories tumbled out.
"When that song "I Drive Your Truck" comes on the radio — there's always a flash flood pouring out of my eyes, that's for sure. I know — so what if I'm sappy?"
She pressed her thin lips together and inhaled, remembering to breathe in and out slowly, letting her shoulders relax, knowing her heart was breaking again. Finally, she grinned, seeing his smile as he wiped the dust off his truck.
He loved that truck, and so did she. It would always be a part of the farm and part of her. Her eyes rolled toward the sky. She could feel his warmth again.
"Now, don't start. Your old truck ain't hurting nothing sitting out there in that drive. I kind of like using the bed as a flower box. It's not like you'll be hauling stuff anymore. So, I put it to good use. Mighty colorful, don't you think?"
She knew he would be upset about what she had done, but she had been raised with the principle of waste not, want not. She rocked back and forth, content to listen to the night sounds.
"Listen — sounds like a few of your old cronies stopped by tonight. That must be Jackson singing bass, croaking like that. Oh, wait — those darn bullfrogs fool me every time. Wonder if they drank some of your beer so they could sound like that?"
Somewhere in the nearby trees, she could hear a faint hoot.
"There's the owl — you think he's watching us?" She giggled. "Reminds me of daddy, sitting out back, whittling and whistling until you'd finally go home."
She smiled.
"I'll never forget that night you were determined not to let daddy chase you off. We stayed out here all night, rocking and listening to the crickets, holding hands and stealing kisses."
A long pause —
"I've missed you so much. Having this little chat helped."
She stood, gazed longingly at the stars, ran her hand across the back of his empty chair, and murmured, "It's getting late."
A long pause — torn between staying or going inside.
"Still haven't gotten used to sleeping in that big old bed alone."
At the doorway, she added —
"I'll leave the window cracked open — just in case."
A few minutes later, as Sadie climbed into bed, she softly whispered, "Goodnight."
A gentle breeze drifted through the window as she closed her eyes, a smile on her lips. She heard a whisper and knew it was him.
"I'm here."
She turned off the light and drifted off to sleep, knowing his arms would keep her safe.
Silence wrapped around Sadie like a familiar cloak, comforting her as she stared at the indigo sky, all aglow.
"It's so peaceful tonight. You can almost hear the stars twinkling, can't you?"
She chuckled, knowing what he was thinking.
"I know, I know! You've told me a thousand times that they aren't twinkling — they're singing."
She paused, rubbing her wrinkled hands together before placing them in her lap. Her thoughts drifted.
"When Katie was a baby, you always told her they were singing lullabies. Then, when she was older, and she decided to join the army, they were songs of honor and country. And when she didn't come home —"
She choked and wiped the salty drips of moisture from her cheeks. Finally, after gathering her thoughts and packing them away, she sighed and sat staring at the sky.
"Sorry! I needed a moment. Sometimes the memories — well, I don't have to tell you, now do I?"
She glanced at the empty rocking chair, tugging her worn sweater tighter around her as more memories tumbled out.
"When that song "I Drive Your Truck" comes on the radio — there's always a flash flood pouring out of my eyes, that's for sure. I know — so what if I'm sappy?"
She pressed her thin lips together and inhaled, remembering to breathe in and out slowly, letting her shoulders relax, knowing her heart was breaking again. Finally, she grinned, seeing his smile as he wiped the dust off his truck.
He loved that truck, and so did she. It would always be a part of the farm and part of her. Her eyes rolled toward the sky. She could feel his warmth again.
"Now, don't start. Your old truck ain't hurting nothing sitting out there in that drive. I kind of like using the bed as a flower box. It's not like you'll be hauling stuff anymore. So, I put it to good use. Mighty colorful, don't you think?"
She knew he would be upset about what she had done, but she had been raised with the principle of waste not, want not. She rocked back and forth, content to listen to the night sounds.
"Listen — sounds like a few of your old cronies stopped by tonight. That must be Jackson singing bass, croaking like that. Oh, wait — those darn bullfrogs fool me every time. Wonder if they drank some of your beer so they could sound like that?"
Somewhere in the nearby trees, she could hear a faint hoot.
"There's the owl — you think he's watching us?" She giggled. "Reminds me of daddy, sitting out back, whittling and whistling until you'd finally go home."
She smiled.
"I'll never forget that night you were determined not to let daddy chase you off. We stayed out here all night, rocking and listening to the crickets, holding hands and stealing kisses."
A long pause —
"I've missed you so much. Having this little chat helped."
She stood, gazed longingly at the stars, ran her hand across the back of his empty chair, and murmured, "It's getting late."
A long pause — torn between staying or going inside.
"Still haven't gotten used to sleeping in that big old bed alone."
At the doorway, she added —
"I'll leave the window cracked open — just in case."
A few minutes later, as Sadie climbed into bed, she softly whispered, "Goodnight."
A gentle breeze drifted through the window as she closed her eyes, a smile on her lips. She heard a whisper and knew it was him.
"I'm here."
She turned off the light and drifted off to sleep, knowing his arms would keep her safe.
"It's so peaceful tonight. You can almost hear the stars twinkling, can't you?"
She chuckled, knowing what he was thinking.
"I know, I know! You've told me a thousand times that they aren't twinkling — they're singing."
She paused, rubbing her wrinkled hands together before placing them in her lap. Her thoughts drifted.
"When Katie was a baby, you always told her they were singing lullabies. Then, when she was older, and she decided to join the army, they were songs of honor and country. And when she didn't come home —"
She choked and wiped the salty drips of moisture from her cheeks. Finally, after gathering her thoughts and packing them away, she sighed and sat staring at the sky.
"Sorry! I needed a moment. Sometimes the memories — well, I don't have to tell you, now do I?"
She glanced at the empty rocking chair, tugging her worn sweater tighter around her as more memories tumbled out.
"When that song "I Drive Your Truck" comes on the radio — there's always a flash flood pouring out of my eyes, that's for sure. I know — so what if I'm sappy?"
She pressed her thin lips together and inhaled, remembering to breathe in and out slowly, letting her shoulders relax, knowing her heart was breaking again. Finally, she grinned, seeing his smile as he wiped the dust off his truck.
He loved that truck, and so did she. It would always be a part of the farm and part of her. Her eyes rolled toward the sky. She could feel his warmth again.
"Now, don't start. Your old truck ain't hurting nothing sitting out there in that drive. I kind of like using the bed as a flower box. It's not like you'll be hauling stuff anymore. So, I put it to good use. Mighty colorful, don't you think?"
She knew he would be upset about what she had done, but she had been raised with the principle of waste not, want not. She rocked back and forth, content to listen to the night sounds.
"Listen — sounds like a few of your old cronies stopped by tonight. That must be Jackson singing bass, croaking like that. Oh, wait — those darn bullfrogs fool me every time. Wonder if they drank some of your beer so they could sound like that?"
Somewhere in the nearby trees, she could hear a faint hoot.
"There's the owl — you think he's watching us?" She giggled. "Reminds me of daddy, sitting out back, whittling and whistling until you'd finally go home."
She smiled.
"I'll never forget that night you were determined not to let daddy chase you off. We stayed out here all night, rocking and listening to the crickets, holding hands and stealing kisses."
A long pause —
"I've missed you so much. Having this little chat helped."
She stood, gazed longingly at the stars, ran her hand across the back of his empty chair, and murmured, "It's getting late."
A long pause — torn between staying or going inside.
"Still haven't gotten used to sleeping in that big old bed alone."
At the doorway, she added —
"I'll leave the window cracked open — just in case."
A few minutes later, as Sadie climbed into bed, she softly whispered, "Goodnight."
A gentle breeze drifted through the window as she closed her eyes, a smile on her lips. She heard a whisper and knew it was him.
"I'm here."
She turned off the light and drifted off to sleep, knowing his arms would keep her safe.
 Recognized |
#14 September 2024 |
I wasn't eligible for the Dialogue Only so I put my own twist on this one...Hope you enjoy!
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