Waiting has always been hard for me. So much so, that I believe I cultivated a habit of lateness to make sure I rarely had to endure the discomfort of waiting. I'm not much better at it now, but I'm working on sitting with uncertainty. Which, in this case, is really just facing the possibility that what I'm waiting for might not ever happen.
********************
The sidewalk was cool, cold even, but I sat
down anyway, hoping he wouldn’t be too long. The air was damp and I could smell
what was growing, even if I couldn’t see it yet. Reaching for a dandelion, I
counted each tiny petal as I ripped it from the comfort and cluster of the
stem. I told myself that he’d be here by the time I’d reached 50. Then 75.
An hour later a stack of wilted stems were
heaped beside me as I heard my mother’s voice.
“He said he’s sorry, sweetheart. He’ll see you
next week.”
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Thanks to Charli Mills at Carrot Ranch Communications for this week's story prompt. In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that is a snapshot of spring. Be sure to check out the wonderful contributions from the other Rough Writers.
Absolutely love this. Smashing ending. (As for your intro...I'm the exact same way. *sigh*
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sarah. Nice to know I'm not the only late-so-Idon't-wait person around.
ReplyDeleteI'm either early or late, and I much prefer being late. :-) Waiting is even harder when you are expecting to be disappointed and that's the sense I get from this character.
ReplyDelete