To Stir an Echo

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He was still holding on to everything, to my past and my mistakes and I wanted to scream, to make him let go and release me from the echo of my sins. Would I forever hear the past shudder around me, bellowing out with the grief in his voice? He turned again, pouring sugar into the pot on the stove, ignoring our situation and me as he stirred. His arm moved, hand clutching the spoon, and I could picture itâthe sugar dissolving into the water, swirling, swirling in white. Swirling, swirling like Lacena had swirled that day in the fields, happy and free. Had she ever swirled againâor could I? Could I place my past into that pot, our lives? Could I stir the echo of my sins, make them disappear with a twist of my arms around his neck, the palms of my hands clutched in prayer. Moving, slowly moving, over the hollow bowl my life had become.-To Stir an Echo