Image: Louise at the Storyteller’s Abode
The train steamed in and her hopes were high. It had been six weeks since the end of hostilities and each day she came to greet her two sons.
Once again she found herself on the platform her hopes up that they would stick their heads out of the carriage and wave frantically to her.
Around her villagers stood awaiting the arrival of their loved ones and smiles were exchanged with their expected appearance.
They knew of her daily vigil. The woman’s resilience was admired. Many recognised her inner strength. In secret they saw little hope for her after this amount of time.
As the engine passed, the steam from the wheels escaped in a cloud that engulfed the platform. She heard none of the exclamations of joy around her as the passengers disembarked and again she felt that recognisable pain in her heart.
Maybe tomorrow she thought, turning away.