The Woman Waiting

She sits there on her baby blue bench.

Surrounded by pillows and blankets to keep her warm.

An old dog named Harold sits by her side chewing a bone.

She looks like she’s waiting.

Waiting for something, but what?

Maybe, its a special letter from her son off fighting in the war?

Reassuring her he is safe.

Could she be waiting for someone special, but who?

Grandchildren she hasn’t seen in awhile?

All grown and moved out of state.

She stares out into her lawn.

Her eyes glazed over with a 3,000 mile stare

Getting lost in the tall grass and overgrown weeds.

Is she thinking about her youth?

Maybe shes thinking about her late husband?

Whom she has loved every day for 75 years.

Only, the past 5 hes loved her from heaven.

Her from crying into the lid of his heart shaped urn telling him I love you in-between loud sobs.

She looks tired.

However, shes not ready to turn in.

Her mind is too busy.

Pondering whats going to happen next.

When will she catch that break?

Reminiscing on her life full of memories both good and bad.

When will she be reunited with the ones she loves?

Craving something more than a little chit chat with the mail man or a friendly neighbor.

Craving the warm embrace of someone whose soul she feels connected to.

She sits there.

A fighter.

A survivor.

Someone who lost everything.

Someone who doesn’t know how to cope with this grief.

She sits waiting for something better because sitting here on her baby blue bench is not a life she wants.