Summer Sundays

buffet illustration

Summer Sundays were always meant for al fresco dinners. An opportunity for a busy family to share the week’s news over a bottle of wine and a table straining with food.

I didn’t see why it had to be different after the accident. Every week I prepared a spread fit for a king, only I was the sole diner.

On Monday mornings, when I opened my curtains and looked out on the patio, the wrought iron chairs had always moved. Haphazardly discarded by ghosts in the night who carried tradition beyond the grave.

I was the sole diner, but I was never truly alone.

Follow Ellie Scott on WordPress.com

Enjoyed this post? Share it with your friends!

Liked this? Tell me what you think below!

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.