You stand there in the photograph, posed and looking happy.  You’re in the pink dress that you made for yourself, and your white hair has a halo-like glow around it because of the light.  Your arms are tucked behind you a little awkwardly, hiding your hands from the lens. You smile as sweetly as the pink cotton candy your dress reminds me of.  Even though you’ve been gone for over seven years, I can remember exactly how you posed yourself for pictures, waiting for the bright flash strike.  I remember the scent of your favorite perfume.  I remember that pink dress.  I wish I could see you like this again. If only the birds of heaven could open a little window to let you climb through for just a little while, just long enough for an embrace and a glimpse of your smile.  The tears I would cry would course down my cheeks and create rivulets in the sand below us! I would express my regrets, I would say I love you a hundred times, and I would not want to let go of those hands you used to hide. New hands now, and perfect, and the scent of your former perfume would be replaced by the unimaginable scent of Heaven. I can only imagine it. You would stand there, composed and looking happy.  When you left, I’d be left with the faint memory of the scent of heaven, of your perfect hands, and pink.


6 thoughts on “Pink

  1. well, i didn’t know her, and i still cried. although you gave me a beautiful inkling of her – that pink dress says a lot. love this. love it!

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