Stop. Drop. Write for five minutes.


Five Minute Friday here.

All on one word: Comfort                                                                                        

Holding Hands shadow on sand



Both of us in the car, driving on our way back home.

We talked quietly about everything and nothing in particular when a memory triggered  pain from the past.

Remembrances flooded back, tears quietly leaked.

Heart cracked wide open.

He looked over in the evening darkness, and without a word held out his hand.

I grabbed hold.

He spoke volumes to me that night.