This story is prompted by Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo Thursday photo prompt:  #writephoto.

Lesa walked down the beach as the waves crash the shore. The sand beneath her feet washed away with each new wave. The smell of the salt water tickled her nose.

She looked over her shoulder at the house behind her. Her parent’s house. Now it was her house. Their house. Her parents deeded it to her when they moved to Paris.

Lesa closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. So many good things happened here. The smells reminded her of her childhood. Birthdays, parties, dates. Her wedding. This place held all her most precious memories.

The sunset at the beach took her breath away. It reflected the orange and yellow hues she loved. Nothing could be more peaceful.

Glen came up behind her with their children. They splashed in the waves, ran down the beach. They stopped to grab some shells that wash ashore and skipped a few stones across the sea.

“What are you thinking, Lesa?” Glen asked.

“I just can’t put it into words. I can’t believe how blessed we are. Us. Our children. Our parents. This beautiful house. We have so much to be thankful for.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

He pulled her to him and circled his arm around her waist as each of them took one of their children’s hands and together they walked home.

This story is prompted by Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo Thursday photo prompt: #writephoto.

Stop over and give it a try. You might be surprised at what you can compose.

Leave a comment. I’d love to hear from you.


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