One Hour
written by: Cynthia Griffin
Aster stepped barefoot onto the beach, closed her eyes, and allowed her other senses to expand. She breathed in the salty air, could taste it. The wind whisked her hair across her face and the rhythmic lapping of the waves beckoned. Opening her eyes, she gazed out over the expanse of the Atlantic to where blue water met blue sky. Forcing herself to delay gratification, she walked slowly across the sand, shedding her clothing as she went. The water rushed to greet her, kissing her feet, then retreated shyly, sucking the sand away; inviting.
Long, sure strokes carried her toward the horizon, away from the confines of her life, the chains of her responsibilities. Aster swam until her arms tired and her breaths grew labored. She paused to tread water. The horizon remained as far away as ever. Behind her, children arriving home would burst through the door needing help with homework. A hungry husband would demand to be fed. A friend would call needing to vent. The house wanted cleaning, the dog wanted walking, bills wanted paying. She rolled onto her back, resting. She would do it all. Just give her this one hour of freedom.
- One Hour - May 30, 2025
- Birdin’ the Yalobusha - February 18, 2025
