By Victoria Hewitt

In my final thoughts I hope my leg is thumping in ecstasy like our dogs in the throes of a belly rub.
I hope I’m embracing the joy along with the pain because without the hurt all that joy would be taken for granted.
I see your faces, the family I choose, not the one I came with. The one I made.
To you my dear husband. You’ve managed to cut a figure that was both dashing and endearing.
My beautiful daughter. Fierce and breathtaking. I’ll always see you with a flower behind your ear.
My son. Your jaw too soft for anger. Smelling of eucalyptus breeze. I wonder if you hear my heart catching in my chest each time you enter the room.
In my final thoughts I see a rainbowed sun shining through the tall windows and the light dancing off our dog’s hair, and the way the room is thick with angels.
And there she is, the woman in white lace holding 5 candles.

Victoria is a poet who writes for herself and hopes to touch others with her words. Her family and the sea give her inspiration. She gets giddy when in the presence of both. The family includes two cats which are polar opposites as well as a dog who tolerates feline moods, just grateful to be a part of something.

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