The Postcard

Mara looked at the postcard on her office desk and smiled.

It was the same postcard that’s been there for the last 5 months and 26 days. 5 months and 26 days of waiting, hoping, and keeping the words of a promise made with that card.

She took it up and stared at its design. Despite its battered state, its green, blue, and purple colors still shone through. They blended with each other and formed the caricature of a lady in a white dress, alone on an island filled with greenery. She was dancing too, as if without a care in the world.

Looking at that image always made her heart happy, because it made her think of what she would do once she got to those islands herself. Oh, to be free of all the stress and worry! She could already see herself sashay her way off the plane.

She leaned back and turned the card over. There were only a few words written on them in messy handwriting, but they always touched her every time she read them:

“Come home to me, Mara. I miss my dancing lady.”

She held the card close to her heart and kissed it. “I’ll come back, my love. I promise,” she whispered softly.

She reverently laid the postcard back on her table and, after giving it one last loving glance, got back to work.

–

First written March 18, 2018.
#163