the way we were

Watching her* stealthily across the room I wondered how often she'd do this, stare into by-gones and nostalgiate. It was a look I thought she'd ceased being capable of. More than that I hadn't expected the affirmation I was to derive therefrom. But what for? That ours was more than a futile journey punctuated with hardship heartache and love-begotten-hate? Then again, could I ever truly be so convinced?

[11.03 Wed 22-Sep-2004]

* mum