The Picture

The picture stands solidly on my bedside table alongside the vase of marshmallow pink carnations and the empty glass of water. 

It looks at me wistfully and keeps careful guard of me over night in the midnight shadow. The thick dark frame collects dust without complaint and does not mind not being cleaned as often as it probably should. 

The picture has been there for two years, and is a safe haven for me in my time of need. 

The woman in the picture meant a lot to me. She is attentive and aware, She is bold but withered.

She worried a lot. In this photo, she is seventy three, and her chrome hair is a comfort.The smile She wore never once faded, nor did it lose its ability to keep me calm and at bay from the negative emotions I had built up inside. Her smile rejected painful emotions and held you like a long lost friend. 

The woman in this photograph was shorter than me since I was fifteen. She would joke about needing a step ladder to kiss me on the forehead goodbye. She was loving and radiant and as nurturing as the sun to a growing seedling. She did not pick favourites, but loved everyone equally. 

The woman in the photograph is my namesake. She was a matriarch. 

Eileen Evelyn McLintock. 

Reviews

[a112yearoldman]

Excellent. A beautiful rendering of a beautiful picture which means so much to you. You captured her, and her salvation for you perfectly!

[breakthebrokenone]

Thank you so much. Your feedback means so much and I am really appreciating your views on my writing. please continue to post your opinions