' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' His Voice In Words

It was a sunny day in Wales as it can only be in picture postcards. It was pinned above her bed but with the picture side facing the wall as if she had turned away from that scene a long long time ago. I had only ever seen it once (when she was asleep I took a peek) a scrawl of words told her that it loved her in a fadey violet ink that could now barely be discerned. The postcard itself as fragile as a leaf. “Don’t turn it! ” she pleaded in panic. “I like to see his voice in words! ” running her fingertips over his I LOVE YOU! letting it speak to her from the fragile fading past letting it speak to her even from beyond his death.