Into the Fire

                             (From the WIP titled Seeing . . . )

     Micah headed to the restroom to use the facilities and wash up before ordering. The memories often came like a surprise attack, assaulting his senses giving him no time for resistance. For just one tiny moment in the less than four second glimpse of the couple out front, the girl had reminded him of Jean. No resemblance in her appearance. Why then? The inevitable old grief threatened him with the choking sensation of holding back unwanted, and now seemingly unwarranted, tears. So many years ago. Why did it still hang around like a noose tightening its grip on the last breaths of his life, daring him to survive his loss?

     He stared into the mirror above the sink, willing himself back to the present by focusing on his expression — clearing the evident sadness out of his eyes. It wasn’t that he wanted to forget any of it, even the grief. It’s that it was so long ago and he was just now desirous of moving on. To who knows where but somewhere else besides the gloom of sorrow’s place etched forever in his mind by the memory of his first and only too-short-lived love.

Father, you told me to "pick up the pen and I'll give you the words". You've been faithful even when I've floundered. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.