Cynthia went over near the window of her bedroom and peered out for a few moments. It was fall, and the large oak tree in the yard was losing its colorful leaves as a mild wind breezed through it.  Partly cloudy, a storm was on the horizon and the rumbles of thunder broke through the silence.  Her mind began to unfold memories,one by one.  She pondered her years in Kingstown, her marriage, family, and children.  Her mind drifted back into the time she’d spent with DL and she realized she could finally remember him without feeling sadness.

     She grasped the handles at the bottom of the old window and pulled it up.  Feeling the fresh air gently blow through the screen was like a whisper from a muse.  She grabbed a note pad, pen, and a picnic blanket that was laying folded in the corner, then stepped outside making herself comfortable under the tree.  She clipped the picture she’d found of DL to the top of the paper, and she began to write of the only love story she had ever known . . . . .