Oh, Moonshadow, this is a wonderfully poignant look into Mick's time, and a beautiful tribute to those caught in the crossfire at Pearl Harbor.
I loved this:
MoonShadow wrote:
“Beth, this wasn’t the anniversary of your war.” He breathed deep before the words came. “These were my friends. This was my time.” Pain laced every word as it slipped into the darkness like the tendrils of fog.”
“You come here every year?”
A cross between a snort and sigh of impatience spoke volumes.
“Yeah, every year. I come here every year. To stand above them. To remember what they gave me. I don’t know how to make you understand what all this,” he gestured across the rolling hills marked with marble, faded greens and browns, and limp miniature flags hanging in the darkness. His empty hand turned palm up, before it fell to his side, “What this means to me.”
She’s trying to understand, he’s trying to explain, but there is no way to truly bridge that gap. The frustration is hard for both of them.
This is so very beautiful.
MoonShadow wrote:
“Are you ready?” she asked in a whisper.
“No.” “Yes.”
He can’t entirely let go of his past, and yet he’s embracing his future with her. What a wonderful way to connect Mick’s past and his future. Brava.
