As soon as Clay got in the house he went straight to his wheelchair, dropped his trousers and took off his prosthetic legs. “In my Army uniform, I stood during our wedding ceremony but I hope you understand if I don’t wear either again.”

            “Thank you for doing that. I’m beginning to get it,” Tessa said opening an unexpected gift from her mother. She revealed an intricate wood carving of a person struggling to claw his way up a crevice toward the light.

             “Does that mean something?”

            “I’m guessing she’s trying to tell us our decision to get married was like jumping in a hole we’ll never get out of.”

            “Her not coming to the ceremony wasn’t enough?”

            “Not for her. She’s never approved of my decisions and before she tells you, I broke up with you after college because she insisted I could do better. The truth is I never stopped seeing your face in my dreams during my first marriage. Hearing you singing and laughing with the children last fall at the church festival gave me the courage to get divorced. When I saw you I didn’t even notice the visible scars, only the wheelchair.”

            “They’re pretty prevalent.”

            “Yes, but it’s your heart and how you always give to others that’s important to me; always has been and my mother can’t wrap her head around that.”

            “I feel sorry for her.”

            “Don’t bother. She won’t back off till we prove her wrong.”

            “What a waste of energy on her part. We already have enough scars from climbing out of the emotional and physical pain of our pasts. How about we help each other break up some of that scar tissue.”

            Tessa wrapped her arms around her husband’s shoulders. “Isn’t that what we got married for?”


Written in a 24 hour window for the Carrot Ranch Literary prompt  “scars from climbing.”