This is what I wrote in response to Saturdays photo prompt (first draft)…..
Helen watched the happy scene through the window as she stood outside number 22 Hague Avenue. Christmas Eve and bitterly cold, the desire to ring the doorbell was overwhelming. But, she remained rooted to the icy pavement beneath her feet.
Had she made the right choice 2 years ago? It was one of those forced situations in life where the decision had been unbearable.
She watched, transfixed, as the man lifted the small boy into the air. “Bobby” she mouthed as her eyes filled with tears. The boy laughed and giggled. He had changed so much, but that was inevitable, she hadn’t seen him since he was 6 months old. It took all her willpower to keep her arms by her side. A mothers natural urge to reach out and hold her baby. Helen slumped to the ground and silently wept.
She knew John would be a good father. Had been confident that Bobby would have a great life. But she couldn’t help wondering if Johns heart was still broken. Did he still love her and yearn for her as much as she did for him? The thought of him getting on with his life, finding someone else, was tortuous. What would he tell Bobby about her death? Would he tell him about the tragic accident where her body had been so badly mutilated she was unidentifiable by anything other than her dental records.
Pulling herself up she stood silently at the gate. Blowing a kiss towards the window, she turned, and tiptoed down the street to the waiting car.
“Are you ok?” The Agent asked, as Helen got into the passenger seat beside him.