The Lid Closed
That last moment. hugging her, clinging to her… cleaving, even. The smell was not pleasant, but I wanted to hold onto it forever, and I never wanted to … never, ever, ever forget it.
I peeled myself away, the smell somehow sticking while stinging my nostrils at the same time.
I wiped my wet cheeks and stood, helpless to wish, dream or pray away the inevitable.
The lid closed.
The hearse was waiting.
If I close my eyes, I can still smell it.
A tear slid down my cheek.
Easter Ellen
~ writing what won’t leave me alone until it is expressed
Easter Ellen writes poetry, prose, fables, reflections, devotional pieces, and three-degree-sideways observations on life. Her work moves through humour, beauty, bite, tenderness, story, and the truth she relentlessly seeks beneath ordinary moments.
She also helps women think clearly, choose intentionally, and move forward with self-trust through content, coaching packages that meet them where they are, and practical tools for building better habits and thinking processes.