On the wing

in The Ink Well5 months ago (edited)

He was about seventeen-years-old when I met him. He was a robust boy, gangly, lanky, and eager to please. He sported the most delightful dimples, and his bronze skin spoke of health and sunshine. A lovely boy. Lovely!

The wind blew through the halls of my house on the tails of ghosts. Echoes resounded in every passage and at every entrance.

Winter had arrived in January, which should’ve been the warmest month of the year. The cold added an extra dimension of discomfort to the itinerary of problematic issues that abounded like mischievous demons.

But there he was.
And there I was.

“Hi,” he said with exuberance, sparkling like diamonds.
I couldn’t temper my smile. His hair was golden brown and floppy. He flicked it back repeatedly while introducing himself.

I loved him instantly, of course.
The child I'd never had...
Beautiful, beautiful child.
My heart ached just looking at him.

Michael was gone. It was not a fact I assimilated with ease.
My husband, so real, determined, and clever, had been whipped away by a fragile breeze. Never, ever, would I see him again.
Never, ever…
Instead, the world had contrived to present me with a child. An honest, underage child who contracted to work in our neighborhood, repairing things that people were unable to fix on their own.

He was clever.
Diligent, they said, the people who knew!
And bright.

I had always been thought of as clever, too!
But time and circumstance had eroded my glitter.
He glowed. Glitter lit up the place like a damn candle.

How odd!
My life was full. Full of Michael, career, and opportunity.
It crumbled like sand. Disease is a dreadful equalizer. A devil in disguise.
My heart. My love.
So lonely.
Then he was there.
I had to prepare lunch. He liked soda and sandwiches.
I had to find the ladder.
I had to find washing cloths.
I had to do things!
I think there was a purpose to the madness. Purpose I needed. A purpose for me.

The wonder of the moment didn’t strike all at once; it encroached slowly, like a moth fluttering on the wing.
Ashton was super, ridiculously poor.
Ashton liked tea. Who would’ve thought that a boy would admire the broth? But he did.
He mowed the lawn and asked for double helpings of lemonade.
He sanded down the wooden sliding doors and slathered extra butter on the subs I made.
How can you make a friend of a child?
How could he make a friend of me?
We sat for hour after hour, tea in hand.
His father drank too much.
His sister was an accomplished, underrated, and underpaid artist.
He wanted to be an engineer.
Bright, shining hope. How exquisite!
I found myself.
And he found me.


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It as though you are under a spell as you write, and you weave that spell all around us until we are in its thrall.

As we read this, we wonder, has she gone mad? Has sorrow and despair driven her to the point where Ashton blooms from longing? He fills a void. He is like you, clever at fixing things. He is the child you never had.

You offer enough of a backstory for us to believe in the physical Ashton. And yet, sorrow and longing are powerful forces. They can create from ether the chimera of a real boy.

It doesn't matter. Ashton glowed. He "glittered up the place like a damn candle". That's all that matters.

A powerful, beautiful piece, @itsostylish

Thank you so much @theinkwell. I’m so very pleased that you enjoyed my piece ❤️🤗❤️🤗❤️🤗😁😁😁

This is of course an exquisite portrait of a child, a golden child. A child that fills every need. A child that is company, that likes to chat. One who has a story that could have been written by central casting. Or, it could have been written by an aching heart that finally found a cure for the pain.

This is beautifully written. We want to believe in the wonderful fortune of our protagonist. But do we?

Your writing is charmed, @itsostylish.

I’m so very chuffed that you liked it! You’ve make my day. Thank you.🤩

💐🦋💐

@sirenahippie says - My God! What a wonderful piece of writing, deep and brilliant. Great. Greetings @itsostylish

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How do you do that? Write in such a way that my mind and soul can fill in an entire backstory without blinking an eye? Beautiful. Heartfelt. Your writing soars. Love you 💗 !LUV !LADY !PIMP

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Thank you @samsmith1971 you are such a wonderful supporter of my odd work. I love you with all my muchness 🥰

I love you right back. I wouldn't have you any other way 💗 well... I would hahaha... it's unconditional x

You've melted my heart with this story, @itsostylish. Children can be so beguiling. You captured how a sweet child can capture one's heart, and even help to heal its wounds. Lovely!

Thank you so much @jayna. You make my day!