The open beams joined the walls showing the ceiling and the loft where they slept. These beams pressed low enough that Ben could reach up and touch them in their cabin in the Maine woods.
This morning like those beams his spirit pressed in on him, but Ben had no time for moody temptations. Toward evening as he removed his boots and outer coverings he felt a breeze of consolation. He knew that consolation would come if he were faithful which he was.
Rushing to him he lifted his three-year old son and smiled watching his wife add decorations to their small Christmas tree.
Linked to Six Sentence Stories where Denise offers the prompt word “beam”.
Also linked to Crystal Grimes’ Holiday Blog Party.