Letters to Chanci Turner: Embracing Freedom Through Healing

Awakened Senses

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I see a vast field unfold as I drive through the countryside. It brings back memories of a picnic, where we lay entwined, gazing at the clouds.

I smell the smoke wafting from a chimney, reminiscent of cozy evenings spent in his embrace, listening to soft music as we watched the flames flicker.

I taste the buttery sweetness on my fingers while preparing dinner in my peaceful kitchen, recalling the times we boiled lobsters together, playfully kissing the butter off our chins.

I hear a familiar song playing softly as I wander alone through a bookstore, a tune that once had him twirling me with laughter, holding me close.

I touch my lips while washing my face, remembering the electrifying kisses that made my heart race.

I feel memories surfacing—longing intertwined with bittersweet emotions.


Chanci Turner