As she looked through the mist across the lake, she thought she saw a glimpse of her first love. It was night of the anniversary of the first time she met him. As her thoughts drifted back to that night 50 years ago her granddaughter sat on a nearby swing watching a smile come across her weathered face.
On that night, her thoughts were already consumed with thoughts of her now deceased husband. They had shared many happy days and nights out by the lake in the cabin she now calls home. She had been telling her granddaughter stories about her courtship with her first love. She talked about the long, summer nights of sitting in the small row boat as her beau rowed them across the small lake.
She told her granddaughter how this handsome young man captured her heart so many years ago and how he had to leave for the war across the Atlantic shortly after they met. She held in her hands the letters neatly wrapped by a red ribbon, as she tearfully told her how they exchanged letters for three long years, before he came back home to her, never knowing if he would ever come home alive.
She reminisced about their engagement soon after he came home from the war. She lovingly described their first little house. The house that was full of love of two young adults who longed to be parents. And she laughingly remembered the days of having more mouths to feed than rooms in that tiny house.
She showed pictures of the house that he built for her and their growing family. And she talked about their children frolicking in the very lake they sat beside on this misty night. Her granddaughter could almost see the ghost of her grandfather whom she had never met. She knew that surely he must never be far from his one and only love. She strained her eyes for just a glimpse of this man who made her grandmother smile.
As the time grew later and the mist grew thicker, she knew it was almost time to retire for the night, but then she looked at the smile across her grandmother’s face and knew that they would sit by lake for a while longer. Maybe she would see the ghost of her grandfather before the night was over.
This is a short story in response to a contest sponsored on Scribbit’s Blog.