On The Surface

On the surface her life was picture perfect. She was always smiling. She had an adoring husband who was very successful. She lived in a house on the hill with a beautiful man made pond in her backyard.

The most beautiful thing about her wasn’t the way she laughed when she heard a funny joke, but it was in her smile. Her smile radiated from within. She genuinely liked people. She was at every church service, baby shower and wedding in town. Everyone loved her. Everyone wanted her to be a part of their lives.

So, she tried to make every event that she was invited too. She was really busy. The townspeople understood when she couldn’t make every event. But, she tried. She sent gifts and she sent handwritten notes.

No one did that anymore. Quick emails or text messages is what they were used to receiving. But, she was different. She believed in the art of sending handwritten notes. She was loved.

But, no one looked below the surface. They couldn’t imagine that her life was built on lies. That her pain was real and she suffered in silence. Why not? Because the surfaceย was so beautiful. It was hard to see beyond that.

She hid the bruises with make-up. She took “siestas” to a retreat in the mountains to recover from the painful punches he inflicted on her body out of anger. She leaves. Always to return to herย life lived on the surface.

No one knew the true pain she hid. It would’ve taken years of therapy, wine and drugs to forget the last few years of her life. Years that she couldn’t imagine reliving. So, she struggled. In silence. She smiled at the right time. She woreย the right clothes. She appeared by his side at every event.

Many women wished that they had her life. A life filled with a beautiful husband, a beautiful house and beautiful jewelry. They were looking at the surface.

And that’s where they found her body…floating near the surface.

 

 

Today’s post is in response to the Daily Prompt – The word was surface

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