Do you remember how long it used to take, to walk to you back then, Darling?

The old man looked around, and ran trembling fingers through his white beard, obviously moved by the view. Sitting on a bench, he enjoyed the scenery from the bridge for the very first time. For some reason, after moving together from their villages, on each side of the steep valley,  they had never returned.

Until today, that was.

They had met at the fair of her tiny town, when they were sixteen years old. He had spotted her in the crowd. Though terribly shy before her stunning beauty, he had managed to walk to her at the evening dance, to offer his arm and invite her to join the other couples already swaying around.

Unexpectedly, she had agreed, with that sparkle in her eyes he had immediately fallen in love with. They had danced all night, and it had been with most regrets that he had headed back to his parents’ home, on the other side of the valley.

For a whole year, he had traveled back and forth, every time he could, to court her. The next summer, they had wed in her hometown, and moved closer to the capital to start a life of their own, and a little family.

Looking at the young couples, on the other benches, he mumbled…

These kids don’t know their luck… This bridge would have saved me hours and hours. Time I could have spent with you, Dear.

Luckily, they had had a good sixty years together. How he had loved her through the whole journey…

Picking the urn sitting besides him, the old man walked to the railing and removed the cap, his eyes tearing as he poured the ashes over the valley.

Farewell, Love…

Via Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge