Kayleigh Diaz
@kleighdiaz.bsky.social
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Mother, educator, bibliophile. Aspiring author with a penchant for acquiring entirely too many old books. 📚
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![Writing snippet: “You can't just go!” she cried. “After everything, after [redacted], you're just gonna leave?”
He turned to walk away.
“Shrimp!”
He paused for a moment as the waves crashed against the shoreline. Then he turned back, laid a hand on her cheek, and a kaleidoscope of images shot through her mind—twisting, turning, combining—only to be reassorted, shuffled into something new.
A swath of land, ribboned with streams; a cloudless, cerulean sky; tree branches dipped in frost, a blanket of clean snow resting atop the forest floor. A single, white buck in a clearing, its head turning toward her through a silent drift.
And then people. Not solitary, hunted, bedraggled or starving. Faces aglow, flush with radiance, brimming with life—both old and young—but all of them, all of them surrounded by others. This is community, she thought as they whipped through her mind. So many, so many. This is family. These are friends. This is humanity. This is love.
And more. Sensation. The warmth of a blanket, the scent of roasting food, the sound of music and laughter, enough that she was dizzy, drunk with it, like she'd lived a thousand lives in little more than an instant.
Then the kaleidoscope narrowed and collapsed into a single, crystalline scene: a woman with freckles dusting her cheeks, laugh lines etched at the corners of her eyes. She looked down at an infant, cooing in her arms…
He lifted his hand, and she was brought back to the cold present, the crashing waves, bits of sand peppering her cheeks.
“What was that?” she whispered.
He took her hand, traced the letters on her palm.
Hope.](https://cdn.bsky.app/img/feed_thumbnail/plain/did:plc:b2dkg66kzkqzecdeitmhnhbw/bafkreiaiybwbaf5y3xek3x66s4pc75beujcrlo4ylpk5uv7rggnd5cv3bm@jpeg)
Reposted by Kayleigh Diaz
Reposted by Kayleigh Diaz
