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We had made a deal, Summer and I. I'd begged her to stay for a while in July and August, but she would only show me a flash of a smile, a ray of warmth and she'd be gone again. To Italy, France. Or Morocco. So I promised I'd give her something to come back for. My turning forty didn't impress her much. She needed more. A token of my appreciation. A sacrifice. So I vowed I'd quit smoking and she whispered she'd make a comeback for a week or so.
We both stuck to our promises. With her, she's brought the delight of ripe figs paired with walnuts. Easy breezy afternoons at the nearby café. A feeling I'm about to burst with happiness. I don't even miss the cigarettes that much. But that's a lie.
6 comments :
figs...i lvoe figs. one never find a good tasty one here in Norway... and i also love hands ( your last post is simply great!) i still remember my grandmas hands after 25 years...
what a great deal! good for everyone.
i love figs, too! :) :)
love,
agnes
:)
Figs and walnuts and enough happiness to burst seems a great trade off! Good for you.
oh i love the whispering sensuality in this post. i love the lilt of your writing.
so that's the reason summer is back! Don't you dare start smoking again!!! I like this weather ;-)
Congrats on the new coffee table!
@ all: figs are so amazing, aren't they! Wish I could share them with you all.
@ Chasing lightning bugs: thank you for the lovely compliment about my writing. I always feel shy about exposing it to other people's eyes.
@ Lisa: I'll try to be a good girl! :-)
x E.
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