Love letters is the second story in my short story trilogy, The Lilac Hour, which released just this week.
Here are the opening lines:
We buried Mama under the big oak next to Papa just as the lilacs came into bloom. It was fitting, Mama being laid to rest at his side in the time of lilacs. I was so full of missing her that I felt my heart would splinter into a thousand tiny pieces, but I found comfort in the thought of them together up there in the shade of those old trees, overlooking the bay. It tempered my grief ever so slightly, like a feather come to lodge in a dark place.
For the longest time, I would think it was her each time the kitchen door opened. I could see her carrying a bunch of lilacs. “Oh, that sweet smell,” she would say, “If only they could bottle it.” Or I would open the cupboard and expect to find all the cups right-side up, a habit of hers that fretted me to no end.
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