The missing girls had all been gifted the same music box for Christmas.
But now, where a ballerina used to #rotate, twirled an exact replica of each child, silvery bright music illuminating their blank stares.
Outside, a row of women in pink tutus danced down the street #vss365
For Irish Gran and her sisters Monday was wash day. Getting the whites white held a sense of pride.
When one of the sisters got a twirly washing line, they all had to get one. Grandpa set it up for Gran, and she smiled as she watched his pants #rotate in the wind. #vss365
They say a person’s spirit lives on in symbolic ways, ways that the grieving recognise and take comfort.
When Jane’s father died, she heard a robin sing in the garden. Jane loved birds.
When her mother died, one red tulip appeared in the snow. Jane hated flowers. #vsspic
That was a crimson tulip in a blanket of snow, not a bloodstain on her bedsheet. This was a ball #gown, not a hospital gown, & any moment, she’d be whisked off on a romantic date.
“Ready for theatre?” came a voice.
The carriage set off. Romeo & Juliet awaited. #vss365 #vsspic
Love the poignancy of this ❤️💔
Daddy had told her to stay put. She would be OK. It was not for long. He was sad, but had to get food.
Daddy was such a long time.
She plucked a pretty flower from one of the bouquets people had sent. She would go outside and wait for him.
Daddy was such a long time...
I #folded my heart
Again and again
Until it fit
I create holes
~Chasms in me
I pinch & prise
Through the gaps
In my old soul
I am cragged
But I have learned
To live within
I feel the sun
She wore the most splendourous #gown, woven of thread wrought from the sun.
I wanted it. Had to have it.
All it took was a slip of my hand.
When I went to retrieve it the coffin was empty, save for a swathe of dull shattered silk.
“Still want it?” she said, behind me.
Going on their summer holiday took Irish Gran days.
She washed and ironed a whole set of clothes for her and Grandpa and would put them, #folded, on the spare bed.
Often Grandpa would be looking for his favourite socks then realise when Gran gave him that look. #vss365
One of the highlights of their holiday was meeting up with the same couples at the Saturday dance. Irish Gran wore her favourite swirly #gown and Grandpa his special jacket and favourite socks.
The dance, funfair and bingo were such happy parts of their holiday. #vss365
Christening gown: embroidered initial, future-proofed.
Wedding gown: crystal-eyed, shine-catcher.
Dressing gown: stain-flowered, hug-ready.
Hospital gown: dried fluids, repeating pattern. Repeating pattern.
hang up our #gowns,
and leave through the same door.
"I have a #proposal. When you're with me & someone asks me my age, I'll subtract 3 years. You back me up."
"3 years. Got it. Faking it."
"Sometimes I may subtract only 2 years, that's when you mention you think I look 3 years younger."
"Hold on, I need a notepad."
Cleaning out his mom’s house after her funeral was hard. He ran across the old lunchbox he used as a kid & remembered how she always slipped a #folded note in it every day.
He flipped it open & there was a note. It read ”I’m so proud of the man you’ve become. Love, Mom”
She waited tables at the diner each day after school.
She’d stare at the dance studio across the street, wishing she were there.
She was cleaning a table where an old lady had been, and found a #folded piece of paper:
I paid for a year of lessons. Go chase your dreams. #vss365
Want to know the ugly truth? Look not to the neatly #folded letters encased in crisp envelopes, or the weighty tomes with gold-gilded spines.
True stories are found crumpled in bins, blanketing fire-grates & murmured in dreams. Mistakes & loose ends, blowing in the wind. #vss365
As soft sugar into fluffy meringue, she #folds the air around her
Wisps of clouds and baby's breath aerate the haze
Floats above the edge of hardness
converges with the spirits of light and azure sky
Joyous shafts dance between the spaces of the divine
Let Peace reign
Her little fingers struggled to thread the #daisies. Tears welled as the stems split. It was to make Mummy feel better.
By the time she had finished, clutching the disconnected strands, they told her, 'Not now.'
Dry, straggly, unworn, she left her gift on the casket.
Her eyes #dart
The look, they see,
They blossom, bloom
Erupt beneath a glance
For she is the sun
She blows her kiss
Into the misty waters
She gives life-warmth
~The lonely star
All she touches, burns.
Yet all she looks upon
Fireflies #dart through bushes like a million moving stars.
Eight tiny planets float amongst them, circling a tiny sun.
I reach out, pluck Earth from its orbit. The fireflies scatter. Their lights blink and go out.
Above us, a giant hand descends from the night sky.
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