Adult reading lesson, vignettes: Amber Musing
I am Amber
Amber sat on her balcony and watched the sun set. The air was quiet. All the birds had flown. Only the steady trickle of her balcony fountain broke the silence. The letter sat on the table beside her unopened.
She would have to get used to enjoying her balcony only in the late evening. Linda tried to cheer her up with potted moonflowers. "They bloom at night you know Auntie Amber". Amber knew.
She must cancel the outdoor wedding plans. She hoped that was the least of it. Michael was an outdoors person - hiking, camping, parks. What now? The doctor was quite emphatic - no more sun Amber. Every exposure leaves you more at risk.
Amber sent the news to Michael in a letter. He was out of cell phone range. She didn't know how long it would take to hear back. She thought she had more time, but there it was - his reply sealed in a letter beside her.
She took a deep breath and opened the letter.
Dear Amber,
Your letter! I read it slowly, twice. Let me say this as clearly as I can: I don't care about deposits or plans that change. I care about you.
I don't care about the sun. You are my warmth, my light. If we spend our lives in the shade, behind curtains, walking at dusk, I'll be there. You are my only flame, Amber — the only light I need.
We'll find new ways to live fully, joyfully, together. You haven't lost anything that I can't help you rebuild — slowly, gently, with love.
Let's plan a new kind of wedding. Indoors, at night, in winter — I don't care. As long as you're there, I'm home.
Always yours,
Michael
She put the letter away. She felt foolish for having worried.