(no subject)
Nessa had a peculiar smile on her face, a calm, soft, slightly wistful smile. It wasn’t melancholy, it was nostalgia. Nostalgia that could be expected. Oh, she was grateful for her son, but she missed everyone else. Her family, her workshop, her garden, her sister, her friends and even their arguments. She missed them dearly.
She supposed everyone here had these feelings at some point. Beautiful though this island may be, it was not their home. To her, this was a prolonged vacation and she found she was ready to go home.
Not on, she knew. The hut behind her was her room here and the garden in front of it her home.
Old but skilled hands had taken small flowers and were making a crown out of it. Her nails carved small cuts in the stems, after which she linked them meticulously. She was in search of inspiration, but found her daughter’s absence instead. The little girl with the angel wings, the careless twirling girl with the radiant smile, the bright red cheeks and the crown of flowers. Now older, of course, but in her mind always the young girl. Another flower linked, another memory she fondly smiled at.
((She’s at her hut, her paints are behind her. Maybe she’ll find inspiration in your pup (read: all tags and all times welcome)!))
She supposed everyone here had these feelings at some point. Beautiful though this island may be, it was not their home. To her, this was a prolonged vacation and she found she was ready to go home.
Not on, she knew. The hut behind her was her room here and the garden in front of it her home.
Old but skilled hands had taken small flowers and were making a crown out of it. Her nails carved small cuts in the stems, after which she linked them meticulously. She was in search of inspiration, but found her daughter’s absence instead. The little girl with the angel wings, the careless twirling girl with the radiant smile, the bright red cheeks and the crown of flowers. Now older, of course, but in her mind always the young girl. Another flower linked, another memory she fondly smiled at.
((She’s at her hut, her paints are behind her. Maybe she’ll find inspiration in your pup (read: all tags and all times welcome)!))