Happy Monday to one and all. I hope your weekend was fantastic and that you are well rested and ready to face the new week. I am very ready to get this last week of June started. The fact that i can see July from here is a bit startling, but I suppose it is inevitable. July does follow June after all. I just didn’t expect june to fly by so fast. However, we still have a few days left in the month. So let’s get into the, Ready for the first writing prompt of the week? Excellent. let’s go.
Hmm. Not bad for a Monday. I think with a bit of time and thought this could be shaped into something.
Monday, June 28th: It was an almost perfect day.
It was an almost perfect day. The sun was shining, but the heat was not too much. The sky was a bowl of blue, punctuated by a few decorative fluffy white clouds that would have looked perfect in a child’s drawing. A light breeze blew carrying the scent of jasmine and mint.
Laid before us was a picnic spread worthy of a painting by one of the old masters. The fruit was plump and glistening. Cheese was at the perfect spreadable consistency. Bread had the balance between chewy crust and soft interior exactly right.
There was light and love and laughter. If anyone noticed a darker undertone, they kept it to themselves. While the weather seemed complicit in our intentions to have a perfect day, the people were having a harder time. Conversations were edited to include only the pleasant parts, harsh words swallowed back and washed down with one of the delicious beverages brought along for the meal.
There was a fierce determination shining in several pairs of eyes. I tried not to cringe from it. I would play my part. I would be companionable, pleasant and even feign amusement at the inane jokes. In the end, it wouldn’t change anything.
In the morning I would be gone.
By now everyone knew it. Accepted it. The arguments had been held, elaborated, finished. Hard words were spoken and my bags were packed. There was only today to end it all.
The annual family picnic.
It was a tradition that predated me. In fact it had been annual for more than five decades before my birth if the pictures in the albums were to be believed. Of course, they weren’t my family, not really. My aunt married into the family and seemed happy enough. She and my uncle were never able to have children so when my parents were killed in the car accident and she was left as my only family, she took me in.
She had been one of my favorite people before the accident and death brought us closer. While she would never replace the family I lost, she mourned them too. Five years ago, when she died, things began to change. My place here began to shift and I could feel my welcome wearing out. With my Uncle’s remarriage the year before, the welcome had more than worn thin, it had disappeared.
I made plans to leave and was genuinely surprised when the others fought me on it. I thought they wanted me to leave. There were discussions and arguments and in the end I decided that it was time to leave even with their protestations. I made my arrangements and went to speak with the family lawyer to provide my change of address for any further communication regarding the small legacy I inherited from my parents. It was then that I learned why the rest of the family was so reluctant to let me leave.
Ten til Midnight 