-The Cleansing

[Words to Image. When I look at a random image, it tells me a story. I type it. So, I ask myself, am I typing its story ... or my own? Either way, I type it.]

Each time the wind blew, it pulled away pieces of the past. Tiny pieces of the good as well as the bad. The gentle breeze would carry the particles away to wherever they landed, they didn't care. As long as they were discarded, it didn't matter where.

The two youths had lived short lives but had already experienced many things. Things that made them laugh and others that nearly broke them. They weathered unthinkable storms while also riding high on the highest waves. But all waves eventually crash. When the whitecaps break over and mix with the sea, it no longer gives opportunity for surf. Now, it's just water.

The two youths held the highs and the lows in the backs of their minds. The memories were tucked away under lock and key. Some were revisited, some not. Some were never thought of again. They died behind the lock.

The two held onto one another and set out to create memories for a new lock box. One that had no need for a key. One that could forever be left open and be revisited daily. A constant reminder that today's breeze only carried fragrance and smells like fresh baked bread or the gentle aroma of strawberries. Let the wind blow and carry away the dead skin of memories that haunted them. Let it all pile up in mounds far, far away from their feet. Let it disappear in into the cosmos and make room for the new. Let the fragrance enhance the wind so that it is received as a welcoming friend.

The two youths held onto one another and allowed the process to take its natural course. They embraced the cleansing and allowed it to be. As long as they held a hand on the heart of the others, only that which was dead would blow away. That which was alive and breathed had taken root and held fast. It was strong. It held.

The two youths clung to their love of one another. And it was enough. It was always enough.