I watch our son running as he plays in the fields, the sun reflecting off his back, as though he has not a care in the world. I remember those days very well, when we were young and innocent. Part of me wishes for it still. Soon he will leave us to train with the state. He will make a good Spartan, just like his father.

As I lay in the field, letting the grasses somewhat shield me from the glare of the sun, I feel your hand touching me cheek and running through my hair. I touch your hand and open my eyes to see your face. You have only been gone a few days, but to me it seems like an eternity.

This vision is not a happy one, but I smile to see you, thinking for a moment that you have come back to me. I know in my heart that this is not the case, but I long to pretend that it is so. I know why you appear to me now. You need my strength, my encouragement to face what is to come. I give it to you on the sea’s breeze.

On the wind, I caress your face, my king, my love, my husband…

Your spirit departs this world and I feel the aching in my heart. There are no tears, for I am Spartan.

How I long to follow you!

Rising to my feet, I see a Spartan approaching in the distance. I can tell that he is wounded. For a moment, I pretend that it is you, but I know that it is not.

He doesn’t have to say anything and thankfully, he does not. I receive the necklace you gave to me and that I gave you in return. I clutch the confirmation to my breast, struggling to remain strong, to remain on this earth.

As though sensing my despairing thoughts, our son rushes over to embrace me. I turn and fall to my knees before him, hugging him back before giving him the necklace of bravery. I hold our son close, knowing that if it weren’t for him, I would not live.

Our son grows stronger every day. He passes the trials and joins the rank of noble Spartans.

The Persians return, but this time, all of Greece is ready. Our son goes with the Spartans to defend our country and our home.

When they bring him home on his shield, I do not mourn. He served the State well and I know that it is my time.

The knife glistens in the moonlight as I stand before the fountain in the centre of the plaza which was once part of our home. ‘I am coming, my love,’ I whisper to the flowing water.

There are no tears, nor any pain. I smell you on the wind. I feel your fingers weaving through my long, dark hair.