22 Comments
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Jill CampbellMason's avatar

Memories, when they are poignant, never leave do they?

Your attached photos remind me of mine at this point of the year.

A time to celebrate colors: all colors.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

I remember my mom more vividly in the fall. She is gone, but not really gone.

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Jack Herlocker's avatar

💚💚💚💚💚

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Sue Cauhape's avatar

Well, that has an ominous undertow. Secret upon secret.

I misinterpreted this, didn't I.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Yes, maybe. I merely meant to say that even though our loved ones die, we still need a place to put our love and we continue to talk to them in private, to ask them for help, to remind them of something we shared. They DO live on in us. I was thinking mostly of my dear mom, but I think it applies to all of us.

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Sue Cauhape's avatar

♥️

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Wade Terry's avatar

Poignant… raises many more questions….

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Ah Wade, real love doesn’t die just because our loved one is no longer in his / her corporeal body. It continues and we are glad for it. Happy rainy day to you, neighbor! It was nice to talk to you and the pooch at the bus stop yesterday.

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James Ron's avatar

Wow. I'd like to know what that "trick of fate" was.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

So many possibilities here, Ron - illness, accident, crime, etc. I thought I would leave it unspecified so that more people could identify with it. Thanks for reading it - the two photos seemed to write the story.

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K.C. Knouse's avatar

Sweet and sad, Sharron.

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Jim Cummings's avatar

Certain seasons, certain places help keep the conversation alive. Sweet sentiment, Sharron.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Thank you, my friend. You are so right.

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Rolando Andrade's avatar

Good morning. This is a kind of prose poem, a story so well woven that it seems real. It could well be the beginning of a fantastic book.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Thanks so much for coming over here to read at Leaves again, Rolando. I appreciate so much your thoughtful comment. I can see this little prose poem as the opening paragraph of a longer work, too, starting at the end of the story and working backward in time.

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Yael Gelardin's avatar

Autumn, memories, sadness! They go together. Thanks, Sharron.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

It is sort of a melancholy season of year. One wants to cozy up on the short, dark days and just dream.

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Justin Deming's avatar

Beautiful, Sharron! The memories of our loved ones live on and grow stronger/more vibrant depending on the season.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Thanks for reading this, Justin. Since losing my mom in 2017, I have returned to this theme, this view of death, several times in my writing. It can be a bit repetitious, I know, but I still need to deal with it. You know what I mean.

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Justin Deming's avatar

I don’t think it’s repetitious at all. Not for me, at least. I find your work very relatable and compelling!

We lost my mother in law over six years ago, and my wife was explaining to a friend the other day that she’s still working through it. It gets a little easier as time passes, but we can never really fill those holes in our hearts.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

People leave us, but love does not. And each memory keeps it in place. Happy day to you, Justin.

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Rebecca Holden's avatar

So evocative! Wonderful words, Sharron.

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