On the evening of the twelfth day of Christmas, I lit a candle at our bedroom window, curtains open so that, framed by the darkness and the ice-rimed glass, the flame would seem to burn the brighter. A fitting first remembrance, my love.
Sometimes, even grief can be a gift.
Thomas Malloch is retired. Always a reader. Fancied writing. Sometimes gets published.
I like this piece (and this bio. ) Thanks
many thanks.
🥲
many thanks
Thank you, Thomas. I savored this little story and the lovely image it evoked—poignant and heartfelt.
many thanks