Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Sunlight shines like glitter on choppy water while gulls sound calls to their mates. Tabitha stands with little Andrew at the railing. He points to the urn she carries in her left hand.
“Is Daddy in there?”
“They all are, Baby.”
He gives her a pensive look and begins to cry. How does a mother explain the origin of dust from Ground Zero?
As the motor idles, Tabitha lifts the lid from the urn and places it on the deck.
“May I help Mommy?”
“Of course, Love.”
Together, they pour the contents into the bay and say a silent prayer.
100 words/Genre: Hell, I don’t know
Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Please be sure to go to her page and read the stories from other writers. We are a rather eclectic group. I welcome kudos and criticism. Bring it on!
A sad tribute. Good to see you back.
Hello Love. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. I’m hoping I’m on the mend and words will be pouring forth again soon. Thanks for your kind comment.
Love, Renee
Hopefully the worst of the rough patch is over and things will be smooth sailing from here on out for you. Stay strong.
Hugs
Strong is my middle name. ❤
A very moving write…
Thank you so much my sweet. Hard to believe I wrote it during a traffic jam.
Love, Renee
A sobering moment, pausing to remember.
Yes my dear, most definitely.
Love, Renee
We went to the very same place with this. Thanks for sharing.
Yes my dear we did. Great minds think alike.
Love, Renee
Indeed! 😉
🙂
Sent from my iPad
Well done. Had me saddened.
Glad you liked it. Thanks for your kind comment.
Lovely Renee, a beautiful tribute to a very sad time in history.
I’m glad you liked it. Thank you for your kind comment.
Love, Renee
Dear Renee,
Lest we forget. Sweet and touching.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Dear Rochelle,
May we never forget.
Love, Renee
So touching.
Thanks very much my dear. Glad you liked it.
Love, Renee