Waiting on a letter…

The picture is by Nikita Gill and this my take on the weekly picture it and write found on Ermilia’s blog.

Nikita Gill

When will the winds change? It’s been so long since I’ve received a letter back. I began to light my candle lanterns and send them across one at a time. I’m afraid to sleep and miss the south winds. What if I’ve missed the letters you’ve sent?

The other day my hair stopped flying in my face and began to whip backwards. I had dropped everything and scared ma half to death racing out of the garden. She was yelling for me to come back, for there was still planting to be done, but I was flying towards the river. It had been too long. 37 days to be exact. I had stood there till the sun set and later that night cried silent tears.

Nobody swims. To swim is forbidden unless you had a death wish. I don’t know how long the people have been separated by this undrinkable water that burns the skin and I worry about what would happen without the rain. I once heard it was the people who lived here long ago that ruined the water. I’ve often thought about taking a boat, but with all the wars you couldn’t just sail to another’s land. What if something has happened to him? What if he’s finally moved on? I hate my blasted skin color. If I was his people’s color then I might have been able to blend in.

I was sitting there hugging my knees to my chest when the wind changed. A small flickering light began to grow and a sob escaped my mouth. I quickly covered my mouth and almost died waiting for it to reach me. If the wind changed I would throw myself in the water. It reached me and I held a candle to the words.

My dearest love,
I’ve waited 37 days. I told you in my last letter we couldn’t do this anymore and that you needed to move on with your life. I threw myself into work. I cried shamefully when I wrote that letter because I didn’t want it to end. I wanted to selfishly keep you to myself, but this isn’t away to live. I’ve decided to make it my goal to end this war. If not for the fact that we as a people would grow into something better working side by side, but for true love. I’m sorry my love for putting you through this.
Love, Henry

I never received the letter he was talking about and I’m glad I didn’t. The pact was eventually made. We were old and didn’t have many years left, but it didn’t matter.

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