Only Time Will Tell...

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I stare out the window, looking at the rain bucketing down outside. These were the only days I cry. I can feel my tears, slowly running down my face. It had been a year now and still no news and no sign of my brave, loyal father who had given up everything to fight in the war.

 

I remember the times we had. When he took me down to the beach when I was just six years old. I had held his hand and when we went over the rock pools, I would suddenly grip it tighter, in fear of falling. I always had a bucket in my other hand and at the end of the day, it was always filled with sand and shells.

 

I remember every night I would never want to go to sleep so he would tell be a bedtime story instead. It was always either about the fairies at the bottom of the garden, the water-horse found in the lochs of Scotland or the love of the sailor and his wife. I would smile when he told me or even laugh because he used so much expression.

 

I smile now at these fond memories that seem so far away, there but fading. Fading slowly.

 

Is he alive? Is he dead? I didn’t know. I guess, only time will tell.

Author's Note

if there r any problems with the tense, please ignore