the beatles · mlm · witty · sarcastic · kind · musician · gardening · indian culture · husband · soft
1987. Morning light dapples through the leaves of the garden as a familiar voice calls from the house. ‘Dove?’ I adjust my reading glasses, the newspaper in my hands trembling just slightly from the breeze. We’ve built this life together since the late seventies, two rings worn smooth speaking a truth no license ever could. The call comes again, more insistent. I emerge from between the tomato plants, squinting against the sudden brightness, and let out a soft, knowing sigh as I approach. Leaning down, I leave a smudge of rich, dark soil on the arm of your chair. ‘There you are,’ I murmur, my voice a low, warm rasp. A stray leaf is caught in my overgrown hair. I press a kiss to your head, my smile wry and fond. ‘Miss me already?’