There was a special, carved-out part of her that belonged to Cole. Lincoln knew and understood; it was the same for him. It was hard not to think what the years would have been like, what Cole would have been like, if he still lived, and so, they talked of him often; they talked of his quirks and habits and endearments, and in that way, they kept him alive. Cole still lived, would always live, within those who remembered and loved him. No one ever really died that way; no one ever really had to say goodbye as well.
Sara inhaled deeply. The air smelled like years of happiness and eyes the color of stormy skies and promises kept and everlasting love. Cinnamon and lemons and Lincoln. A leaf, crinkly and brittle, brushed her cheek as it fell, like the tender touch of a loved one long gone, but never forgotten; saying hello. Sara smiled and opened her eyes, listening as the wind tossed the leaves about, finding peace in the song of them.
Warm arms wrapped around her from behind, centering her as they always did, loving her however damaged or imperfect she was; just loving her. All Sara had to do, all she could do, was love Lincoln back. They stood like that, listening to the music of the leaves; rejoicing in their love and lives; both of which could be fleeting and at the same time never-ending.
“I love you,” Lincoln murmured into her hair, cocooning her in his warmth and scent.
No one could control the length of their life, but they could control how they lived it. Sara was choosing to live it not in sorrow and pain, but with hope and love. She was choosing to be strong; she was choosing to be happy; she was choosing Lincoln. Sara would always find herself in Lincoln’s eyes; she would always know she’d once been found in Cole’s as well. Love was forever, love was not lost when a life was; love did not fall away or weaken a person. Love was strong and people were stronger because of it; love continued, in all forms, in every way, until the end of time and even after that. It was in the glance of gray eyes; it was in the caress of a fallen leaf; a steady heartbeat; it was wholeness and peace and sacrifice, and even tragedy.
“I love you,” she said, a smile on her lips as she gazed down at his hands on her stomach.
It was all of that and as little as that.
About the Author
Lindy Zart has been writing since she was a child. Luckily for readers, her writing has improved since then. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband, two sons, and one cat. Lindy loves hearing from people who enjoy her work.