The Path

  (Photo courtesy Connie at C Marie Images and Inspiration copyright 2016)

   It was a path they had walked every day together for the past 50 years.  Sometimes hand in hand.  Sometimes one of them looking at the sky and the other looking at the ground, both searching for treasure.  Sometimes he had his coffee while she had her tea.

   But today… today she walked it alone.  She had his ashes with her.  But she didn’t feel his hand in hers.  She didn’t feel the warmth of his smile.  She felt empty.

   She walked up to his favorite tree and sprinkled his ashes beneath.  When she was done she started to walk home.  But it really wasn’t home anymore, was it?

   She stopped at the fork in the road.  In those 50 years they had never gone down that other path.  She looked toward what had been home.  She looked down the unexplored path.  Home.  The path.  Home.  The path.  She took a tenative step home.  Then she walked a few steps down the path. Then a few more.  And a few more.