Thursday, October 7, 2010

The Kitchen Window

Thought I'd give y'all something besides weight updates. This is in response to Teacher Ann's writing prompt. Y'all should hit the link over in my favorites and join us, Ann Linquist Writes.

Standing in the kitchen, late at night, the breeze from the open window above the sink fluttered the white linen curtains as she stared out into the darkness. She rubbed the chill bumps on her arms as her mind was a million miles away. Her hand reached to where her long dark hair tickled her barely covered breast as the breeze blew past her.

Sleep eluded her. Her eyes were tired but her mind was awake with thoughts she shouldn’t have. She returned to the bedroom where he was still sleeping that sound sleep that a man recently satisfied sleeps. She kneels beside the bed and watches him, her love since junior high and her love for life. She gently runs her fingers through his hair and breaths in his scent, she never wanted to forget his scent. A tear ran down her cheek and joined the others as they dampened the bed sheet.

She had been through this before, she can get through it again. She was ashamed of herself for having the doubts and wondering what if it all turned out different this time. She rubbed the chilled bumps as she climbed back into bed. Sleep finally came, and came hard.

She awoke to a room full of sunshine, and the smell of frying bacon. She jumped up, and ran to the kitchen where he stood at the stove. He looked at her and smiled, “Now that’s a vision I will never forget.” She looks down to see that her thin nightgown had fallen off her right breast. She couldn’t believe that she felt the warmth of embarrassment rise in her ears. He took the bacon off the fire and walked over to her, cupping her bare breast in his hand. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight, so tight that maybe, just maybe, it would be tight enough to fuse them together.

Their embrace was interrupted by a honking horn in their driveway, “My rides here, I love you with all my heart, and I will come home as soon as I can.” With that he embraced her once again and turned to leave. He picked up his duffle bag, and walked though the door to join the rest of his platoon as they headed to war.

He turned and looked back at his house, the last image that he carried with him was her standing at the kitchen window, the morning breeze warmed by the morning sun fluttering the white linen curtains. She was standing there holding her long dark hair as it tickled her exposed breast. With that image in his mind, he knew he could make it through hell and high water in order to get back to her.


Shaddy aka Cheryl said...

I think you should change your name from Walk to Run. You rock!

Anonymous said...

Great read, Walk. You are better than you know.

Walk said...

Many thanks my friends, a true compliment coming from two great writers as yourselves.