This is the 1st in the series of Fluck Tuesdays.
Inspired by Oliver Fluck’s photo: Salton Sea Arm Chair.
A Reflection from the Shore
Oceans are not as blue as they appear in pictures, Emilie Goldstein thought to herself, as she looked at the loud waves reflect the ashy overcast sky.
At the bony age of sixty-five Emilie Goldstein considered herself, and made an effort to be perceived as, an “attractive woman for her age.” She justified her demeanor which barely bypassed the edge of narcissism due to all that she felt proud to have endured physically and accomplished professionally. Wearing Chanel’s bright fire-engine-red lipstick shade, which appeared abnormally bright against her pale skin matted on her wrinkled mouth, made her feel put together and powerful. She had read in a women’s magazine once that only the most confident of the professional women wore red.
Emilie Goldstein was a breast-cancer survivor and did not mind she had a severely hunched back; however, she was self-conscious about her staggered, slow walk due to the needed hip replacement surgery and arthritis in the lumbar joints. At her age, some would say, including herself when she had herself convinced without a doubt, she had it all: a life tenure court attorney position with the County Judge, a marriage of forty years, two sons in their late thirties who had yet to bear her grandchildren, company she considered friends with whom she had Wednesday manicures, Friday dinners every other week, Sunday brunches once a month, and opera and ballet once a year.
She sailed around the Long Island coast of North-Eastern Atlantic shore with her husband in the summers and enjoyed her inherited Miami apartment near South Beach every other Christmas.
Thursdays, during lunch, were reserved for herself to get her hair washed and set at a salon not far from the County Court.
Emilie Goldstein could never satisfy the longing to swim in the ocean for she never learned how to swim and she couldn’t recall when she had decided it was too late to learn.
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I like the way you capture Emilie Goldstein’s character. I particularly like the way it’s dropped “two sons in their late forties who had yet to bare her grandchildren”. That paints a vivid picture for me.
This story reminds me of the words: “A life lived in fear, is a life half-lived”
She had so much and, yet, the thing that could satisfy her longing is the very thing that she feels is out of her reach.
Such a poignant piece.
You have a wonderful way with description.
Love this!
A well written image to accompany and expand Oliver Fluck’s photo.
I think I may have known and maybe even still know parts of Emilie Goldstein.
To your yellow-brightness,
Sarah
P.S. I love to visit “your house” too!
I sat and read
the store that flowed
I reclined and
watched the sky
as she walked by
think I will come to visit more often