Good morning all. Even though I was up early and ready to go, apparently the computer did not show my enthusiasm. I suspect an afternoon of clearing files and maybe running a few diagnostics is in my afternoon. Still. With the computer finally agreeing to wake up, I think it is time to get started on the morning prompt, don’t you? Excellent. Let’s get this morning off with the first prompt of the week.
I like the start of this. I fumbled a bit as I wasn’t quite sure where I was going, but I think that could be smoothed out. I’d just have to think about the situation first. Also I think I was a bit flummoxed by the computer this morning.
Monday, February 7th: The sea was calm.
The sea was calm.it was like a blue green mirror over which the sun hung, reflected below. If she squinted it looked almost like there were two suns. It was strange, this view. Her room faced out to sea and even though she knew there were other islands out there, her room didn’t show them. She knew if she went to the other side of the house she would be able to see the mainland. The world would not look only composed of water and sun.
‘Two suns,’ she corrected. ‘Like an alien planet.’
She shook the thought off and wondered how often the sea was calm like this. It was choppy when they came over in the boats that morning and the captain of the ferry that ran to and from the island told them that service to and from the main land was dependent on the weather so they needed to be well stocked in case there were stretches where service could not be provided. That made her nervous even though she was told that the house was stocked with enough dry goods to last several months. It would be only the fresh items that they would run out of so while they might be inconvenienced, they would not be starved.
The thought of such isolation still made her nervous. Still it was a condition, being here on this island for the summer.
The family had never been close. She remembered her parents squabbling with their siblings and that when she was small there were factions. All of the factions were vying for the family money. She remembered the gatherings when she was small. The factions were like armed camps of combatants where words were the weapons. She was young enough that most of the sniping went over her head. She wasn’t sure what the final straw was that ended her parents’ visits.
She just remembered them both going stiff faced and rigid after dinner one night. Then when she was tucked into the small bedroom next to theirs, she remembered the sounds of their voices. They were tense and agitated, but not angry with each other. There was no yelling and even though she could not make out the actual words spoken, she felt a knot in her belly from the tone of their voices.
The next morning, they had gotten up early and not waited for the others at breakfast. Their bags were packed and a stiff farewell was given to her grandparents. The car was loaded and they were on their way out of town before the others even rose from their beds. Breakfast was taken at a pancake restaurant three hours down the road.
It took that long for the tenseness in her parents’ faces and shoulders to ease. She had a face made out of whipped cream and chocolate chips, with a cherry for the nose as her breakfast and she remembered her father inhaling the scent of his coffee, closing his eyes and letting out his breath in a long sigh. The rest of the tension left then and it hadn’t returned.
They also hadn’t gone back for any of the annual family gatherings since.
The invitations still arrived. They showed up at the same time every year. They came in cream colored envelopes and were made of linen paper, addressed with black ink in a fancy script. Each year they arrived, were opened, read and taken immediately to the shredder. She remembered catching her father as he put the letter and it’s envelope through the shredder. He always had a look of peace on his face as the machine churned the pages to little bits. The visits were never mentioned. The letters never stopped coming.
Ten til Midnight 