Short Fiction: "Stucco Ceiling"

Very, very short story about loss and the things that trigger memories.

Today, as I looked up at the ceiling, with it's textured stucco, I lay on my bed. I took several deep breaths to clear my mind from the day. As I looked, I saw the texture, and the perspective, and it reminded me of my grandmother, who passed away this summer.

It was an unexpected thought, but as I cleared my mind and looked at that one thing, just the vision of it brought me back to times when I was little. When we stayed at her house just for the sake of it. I would have to bring my stuffed animal with me, but after that it felt like home, and often times I would lay in my bed there, for I had one that was designated mine, and look at the ceiling as I went to sleep. The soft cream color, and the stucco bumpy texture.

And as I lay here looking at my ceiling in my dorm room far away at college, listening to music I think of her. 

I can't help but remember, and cry. 
Why does my heart have to be broken in so many places?
Damn you stucco ceiling.

Reviews

[IzzyFizzy]

Lovely piece, very moving, I would never have thought a ceiling could trigger such powerful memories but this captures it exactly.