Watching the horses outside in the snow, Joan tried to be thankful. “Every day write down three things you’re thankful for.”
It wasn’t working.
All she could think about was shifting gears and driving her life in reverse.
What was she thinking marrying a Yankee sailor she hardly knew?
It was Sydney, 1942 and he’d swept her right off her feet.
They were still in love but Silverton, Colorado could never be home. There wasn’t a beach in sight and she hated the snow.
Now, mother had passed and she couldn’t get back.
Why did love always demand it all?
This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers. This week’s photo prompt was taken by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. You can click through to the linky here.