Old turtle woman shuffles slowly. Her legs are heavy, her pace is slow. Her face is wrinkled and small, her youth and beauty have long since left her. Yet in her heart, she is the same girl she was many years ago. Away she walks, slowly but surely. Her feet know the way, she does not falter.

Her mind travels back to a summer years ago, to the British countryside. The sunlight was like liquid gold on the fresh green leaves. There was a fresh summer breeze, the music of a stream. Yet the fondest memory is of the young man. His smile is as light and gentle as a silk scarf, his voice sweeter than music. Together they would sit. Talking about the little nothings that young lovers speak of. Everything was prettier with his presence, people seemed kinder, and the world seemed brighter.

They ran together though the fields of grass, laughing and yelling for joy. They laughed together, they danced together and they sang together. Though the woods they creped, in search of deer. Pheasants explodeded, their red wings flapping, their strange squawks echoing throughout the forest. The sun casts lacelike shadows on the forest floor.
The dreaded return to America drew closer everyday. She pretends it will never come, but she could not fool herself. Her days were numbered; there was a plane ticket in her bag, her passport at the ready. Each day her heart broke a little more, for she knew that this happiness could never really be hers. She would someday soon have to leave this little shard of heaven behind.


Together they waited at the train station. No words would pass their lips. The two young lovers sat, awaiting the anguish of parting. While he looked away, she slipped a postcard into his coat pocket. On it was a picture of the empire state building, and some sweet few words she wrote for him. The thought of him discovering this postcard gave her such joy. How he save for a ticket. She waited the day of their reunion before they had parted. She thought of al the things she would show him. The graceful buildings, the expensive shops, and bustling people.
Their hands slipped apart, their fingertips brushing against each other. Tears bite at their eyes, but they smile to one and other. Waving they smile to one and other. The train is pulling away. Their faces smile, but their eyes cry. Their waving hands reach for one and other. As he waves, his coat moves and the postcard falls out. He walks away, the postcard lies on the floor unread.

Everyday, she goes to the Empire State building. She never looses hope. Though her legs are heavy, and her back now doubled, she walks everyday to that same place. Old turtle woman imagines the things she will show him, how exited he must be, having saved up his money for so long. As she sits in the cold, the wind and the rain, she thinks back to those days. The days of the dancing, the deer and the young man with a voice sweeter then music.