oh, so much longing here. This chapter paints a feeling that is sort of an image, of two things sliding past each other so close, meaning to touch but not quite able to touch again and again— like in a dream.
I love the interweaving of things said, things unsaid, things said that should not be, things not said that should be. Fascinating how you do this to move the story farther and deeper.
“She’d held them that way, like a hope for the child she knew she’d never have.”
So much sorrow here, and a tenderness that feels like a drawn-out sob. You bring subtle details to the act of preparing salmon: Evan’s recipe, Lena’s mother’s grater that isn’t the right tool, something always missing, the cut, the flesh the color of the salmon. Everything comes together here, and in the dialogue that follows. A poignant portrayal of one final, fragile moment.
Ah, Mary, your continuous read, the way you quote and then comment assures me that I'm here on Substack for a good reason. Beautiful words about my own: You honor me, and I return with reads of your work that so enrich and with my heartfelt thanks.
Hi Mary, just to let you know I love your work but don’t feel qualified to comment as it is often so complex, characterisation is wonderful however, excellently portrayed. 🤗❤️💙🕊️
A beautiful chapter, Mary. This line stood out: "Always without, always something missing." it sets the rest of the chapter up so well. In their conversation, there is always something missing.
Ay... The language of this scene is so attuned to the rhythm of long-married couples--the cadence, the code, the denying, the momentary stall of “You’re still in your suit.” It's perfect. Just masterful.💔
Oh Mary, the longing in this... "I’d once given her wild flowers from a shop tied with this string and laid them in the cradle of her arms. This is the way a woman holds the flowers a man gives her. She’d held them that way, like a hope for the child she knew she’d never have."
Gulp...
Your words undo all the strings holding my heart in one piece... xx
Robert’s longing for reunion is so real, so felt. I think Lena feels it too? In this chapter, and for the first time, I felt a glimmer of hope for their future together. Even though you’ve already made it clear that’s not how life will roll the dice. 💔
I could not read this conversation fast enough - what was going to happen? How would it end? I can feel their tension in my chest! Oh my... I'm so glad the story continues even if I have no idea how it will end. Thank you, Mary, for lighting up my inbox each week with this haunting story. 🥰
oh, so much longing here. This chapter paints a feeling that is sort of an image, of two things sliding past each other so close, meaning to touch but not quite able to touch again and again— like in a dream.
So insightful, Holly. You are a marvelous reader and supporter, Yes, so much longing ...
I love the interweaving of things said, things unsaid, things said that should not be, things not said that should be. Fascinating how you do this to move the story farther and deeper.
Ah, so apt and generous. Thank you, Del.
“She’d held them that way, like a hope for the child she knew she’d never have.”
So much sorrow here, and a tenderness that feels like a drawn-out sob. You bring subtle details to the act of preparing salmon: Evan’s recipe, Lena’s mother’s grater that isn’t the right tool, something always missing, the cut, the flesh the color of the salmon. Everything comes together here, and in the dialogue that follows. A poignant portrayal of one final, fragile moment.
Ah, Mary, your continuous read, the way you quote and then comment assures me that I'm here on Substack for a good reason. Beautiful words about my own: You honor me, and I return with reads of your work that so enrich and with my heartfelt thanks.
Hi Mary, just to let you know I love your work but don’t feel qualified to comment as it is often so complex, characterisation is wonderful however, excellently portrayed. 🤗❤️💙🕊️
Deni, of course you are qualified to comment--and this comment is perfect and lovely--only seeing it today or I would have responded sooner! xx
Thank you, never confident commenting on others writing🤣💙❤️🕊️
You should be!!! xo
A beautiful chapter, Mary. This line stood out: "Always without, always something missing." it sets the rest of the chapter up so well. In their conversation, there is always something missing.
Indeed! So, apt, Jeffrey.
Ay... The language of this scene is so attuned to the rhythm of long-married couples--the cadence, the code, the denying, the momentary stall of “You’re still in your suit.” It's perfect. Just masterful.💔
Ah, so kind, lovely Alisa. My thanks for such a generous comment on the writing and the dialogue: so hard to master.
Oh Mary, the longing in this... "I’d once given her wild flowers from a shop tied with this string and laid them in the cradle of her arms. This is the way a woman holds the flowers a man gives her. She’d held them that way, like a hope for the child she knew she’d never have."
Gulp...
Your words undo all the strings holding my heart in one piece... xx
Ah, what a lovely comment. xx, Susie! We do build a literary community ...
Robert’s longing for reunion is so real, so felt. I think Lena feels it too? In this chapter, and for the first time, I felt a glimmer of hope for their future together. Even though you’ve already made it clear that’s not how life will roll the dice. 💔
Exactly -- or so I think. I don't always know what my characters are going to do :)!
I could not read this conversation fast enough - what was going to happen? How would it end? I can feel their tension in my chest! Oh my... I'm so glad the story continues even if I have no idea how it will end. Thank you, Mary, for lighting up my inbox each week with this haunting story. 🥰
You made my day, again, Susan!