The Weir Within
"Life breaks us all, but LOVE rebuilds us—TODAY, in the cracks, the soul sings its quiet rebellion" CJB
The Weir Within
Kneeling in his pyjamas, amidst a sea of swaying wildflowers, he knew something was profoundly different. The morning sun warmed his face, the gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of blossoms and the distant melody of birdsong. Yet, it wasn't the idyllic setting that stirred him. It was something deeper, a shift within.
Last night was a blur, a haze he couldn’t penetrate. Forcing memories only blurred the details. But the year before, the raw, agonizing year, was as vivid as the birdsong echoing through the surrounding trees. How could he forget the slow, relentless fading of his daughter, the cancer stealing her light?
A familiar ache tightened his chest, the pain rising, threatening to breach the fragile weir he’d constructed. A mental dam built of denial, refusing to accept her absence.
"Daddy!"
The voice, so familiar, so achingly real, startled him. He turned, disbelief warring with a desperate hope. "But you died..."
"No, Daddy, my body died. Silly." She giggled, a sound that wrapped around him like a warm embrace.
The sun's heat intensified, the birdsong swelled, and the wildflowers danced in the breeze. A wave of profound happiness washed over him, a feeling he had forgotten existed. "Of course!" The memories of last night flooded back, not of sadness, but of a joy so pure it felt like a physical force.
Her smile, a wide, mischievous grin, beamed through him, filling the emptiness within. It was the grin she’d worn after he'd stepped on a stray Lego brick in her bedroom. The ghost of that sharp, sudden pain flickered, and the dream began to dissolve.
He woke, the digital clock glowing 4:00 AM. A hand touched his shoulder, a gentle pressure. He reached up, his fingers meeting hers.
"Another bad dream, darling?" his wife whispered, her gaze drifting to the framed photo on the nightstand, where two silhouettes cradled a precious form.
He turned to her, a genuine smile softening his features. "Actually, no. It wasn't. Everything is going to be okay. I'll explain more over breakfast."
I felt it was time to exercise my creative muscles and write a short story. I have very limited experience of writing these so I hope it reads well and the message of love and hope comes across in the way it is meant. See you in the comments on X.
