The city, where she’d lived for forty years, was drained of wonder. Sometimes, during the lurching, heaving bus rides between work and home, she thought about her childhood, how she sat beside her father during long drives through the country, and how the road ahead of them unfurled like a ribbon wrapping the earth. Miles in the distance she could see it curl over a hilltop before disappearing into the horizon, and she imagined if she ever reached that place – where the ribbon touched the sky – she’d see her future sparkling before her, awaiting her arrival.
2 Comments
Christa Loughrey
15/4/2024 04:49:16 pm
Such a shame that we lose the magic of childhood when we grow up, isn't it?
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Paul A. Freeman
18/4/2024 01:13:15 am
A melancholic, all too true story.
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