She folded the funeral shawl and set it between sheets of peeled cedar to protect the peerless black cashmere from moths,
She thought how the smell of cedar had come to mingle in her mind with the tastes of loss and grief. Her brother, her mother, her husband, and now David.
From the freezer she took the pint of ice cream she’d bought to surprise him when he came home from hospital this time, his favorite flavour she’d so long forbidden for fear of diabetic consequences.
She held it cold in her hand, then put it back in the freezer.
Now that he’s gone, there’s no sense letting the ice cream go to waste…! But well written as always ;-)
Dear Josh,
I suspect ice cream will be less of a temptation for her now, diabetes or no. Dare I say, sweet story? Well written as always.
Shalom,
Rochelle
As the Germans say, if you drink you die; if you don’t drink you die anyway. I liked the coldness of the ice cream
That’s sound German philosophy all right. A cheerful people!
This is so evocative. You have made me smell the cedar, feel the grief, live in the heart of the widowed woman–all in so few words. Extremely well done.
Thanks!
There is a curious detachment to the voice you use. It’s as though your MC is operating on autopilot. Her grief and loss are real, and we can feel them; the detail of the cedar and the cashmere and the cold ice cream conjure them up vividly. Perhaps it is their prosaic nature that provides a sense of disconnect?
All she has left is a pint of ice cream. A touching tale.
Here’s mine!
I can feel her. The scents, textures… all bring this to life. And I can also understand her seemingly detachedness, returning, once again, from a grave site. I like to think she will take it out and eat it when she’s ready.
Well told.
Every time she opens the freezer she’ll remember and think of him there, cold in the ground. Such an excruciating loss after losing so many before David.
Wow. Well done! The chill, and grief, were evident.
A heartbreaking tale, so well told. I love the way you incorporated the smell of cedar associated with her deep loss and the cold of the ice cream.
Sad. The ice cream is as frosty and numb as she feels.
A very evocative piece. Plenty to savour within.
How long wil it be, I wonder, before she throws that icecream out?
The poor woman. Maybe as time passes that ice cream will end up as comfort food for her.
So sad. Now the ice cream will never be consumed, as the memories will forever hurt.