Every Yesterday

Christian reflects on love, loss, and sweet memories.

The nurses called Christian Sinclair a silver fox. He chuckled each time, brushing a weathered hand through his thick, shining hair, silver as moonlight. They said he wore his years well, especially with that old Stetson hat perched proudly on his head. To him, it was more than a hat. It was dust and sun, cattle and fences, long days that built a life.

On the porch of his memory, he could see himself at twenty; strong, restless, brimming with the fire of youth. He remembered swinging into the saddle, the wide horizon ahead, believing he could outrun time. At forty, he recalled holding his newborn daughter, Shannon, his hands trembling despite all the strength they carried. At sixty, he remembered burying his face into his wife Amanda’s hair one more time before she left this world, breathing in the faint flour dusted sweetness that had always clung to her.

Even now, when the halls of the home grew too quiet, he could almost smell it again: fresh baked bread wafting from the kitchen, warm and alive. She would call him in, laughing at the streak of dirt on his cheek, and hand him the first slice, butter melting into the golden crust. That smell was love, was home, was every reason he ever had to keep going.

The nurses never knew why he wore the Stetson, or why he sometimes sat with his eyes closed, breathing deep as though the air itself carried memory. But he knew. The silver in his hair wasn’t just age, it was every sunrise and sunset, every laugh and loss, every bite of bread his wife had baked just for him.

And when Christian smiled, it wasn’t for today. It was for every yesterday that had made him who he was.

Word Count: 297
Prompt: Write a story that includes the words: bread, fox, hat
Written for: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"