“It’s not that big a deal to go to space, you know.”
“Swallow your food before you speak, Rohan.” I watched my husband reprimand our son, and then I turned my gaze to the son himself, twenty-seven years old in all his might, and still having a hard time keeping all the salad dressing inside his mouth. I wondered if it was my failure as a parent, to be unable to even train my child into being able to not feed his meal to his shirt, and to be so brutally unappreciative of his mother’s achievements.
My love, Holland. She was divine, and she was beautiful. Her charm and her glowing skin.
I traced my eyes from the top of her head till the tips of her toes – I saw her thick hair which lay open against her back, the swollen eye that was purple from the bruising, the lip cut open and the ever-present finger imprints against her throat. Below, her dress fell around her body, unflattering, but she looked amazing. Her wrists had the marks of the cuffs she used to wear so happily, and her legs were bruised, especially her knees. I had never been able to take my eyes off of everything that made her look good, gorgeous, mine.