Sunday, June 10, 2018

The Time Stopped

Summer of 1947 (Bournemouth UK). Back and forward. Back and forward. The porch swing moved slowly as she lay over it. Relaxed. The time seemed to have stopped. It was a rather warm afternoon, something unusual on the coast of England, well not only there but throughout the country. So she had thought to take advantage of that pleasant evening doing ... nothing. Alone with her own thoughts. It had been almost two years since the Second World War was over, so you could not hear the humming of German planes in the sky or the screams of people running to hide in the shelters. Now there was only stillness.


1940s cotton dress.
The porch was oriented towards the beach, she could see it from the house. The breeze barely reached her, but it did not matter, it was fine there. Little drops of sweat slid down the back of her neck, she pulled the lapel collar of her new dress a little. She reached out her hand and grasped the glass of lemonade that lay next to her: "It's still cold." Back and forward. "One, two, three ..." she counted. "Three lovely red heart-shaped buttons" she thought. She let them feel between her long fingers. She loved that dress. She looked down and smiled slightly. The dress covered her knees and her feet rested lazy and naked. He had given it to her early in the summer for no apparent reason, and that was what made it special. It gave her a youthful air, well she was only a little over forty years old, she was still young at that age. She felt fresh, light ... beautiful. She would have it on until he came home from work, he liked to see her wear it. Then she would change the clothes to make dinner because she did not want to stain it. "Some sausages and mashed potatoes with gravy sauce will be fine." She did not really want to do anything, a simple dinner and that's it.


She would probably go back to the porch later. The night would be starry and it was not usual. Even maybe she would even put on her dress again, it did not have sleeves, so maybe she needed a jacket. She was going to ask him to take a photo to immortalize that day. "The camera must be somewhere," she thought. She had not seen it for a long time. He would know where it was. He always liked taking pictures, but then the war started and everything changed. Sighed. They were lucky, since they had come out of it alive. The sun was going down to say goodbye until the next day. She fell asleep and would not hear him arrive. Nor would feel his kiss on the forehead and his eyes resting on the small colorful flowers of the fabric of the dress. And there, looking at her as the most beautiful woman in the world. Back and forward. Back and forward.



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