The Choices We Make

A summer evening, the sunlight coming through the bedroom window. My husband lies in our bed. I lay on the floor and listen to the early evening sounds: crows cawing, sparrows chirping, mockingbirds trilling their songs of the moment. My white cat Angelina wafts into the room and brushes against my chest. She is here with me, this time is precious. The afternoon breeze comes rolling through the window -- it lifts me up and takes me to times not forgotten, very near, and yet so very far. The sunlight pierces the fenceline's Sally Holmes rose bushes outside the window, and lights the crystal beads of the curtain's hem. So seductive -- the light, the warmth, the wind -- I feel complete in the moment and yet a lingering haunting remains of what could have been. Yet the best remains and I know deep in my soul I made the right choice. And with a laugh and a wink I know that nothing is written in stone.