Photo by Ivana Cajina
As the day ebbed away, I would see her hobble down the gravel path to the water’s edge. She’d wait there a moment or two before wading into the water. I knew her story, her husband many years before had drowned on the lake one night during a fierce storm.
She awaited his return thinking if she stood there he’d know she was waiting.
It made her feel she wasn’t giving up, some nights she’d sing, others she stood in silence. When the light finally faded to darkness, she’d wade out and head off up the track to her home.
Written for: https://bikurgurl.com/2018/01/10/100-word-wednesday-week-53/
Yes indeed thanks for stopping by
Beautiful piece to match the picture and I agree heartbreaking. But perhaps this daily habit gives her solace, this being the last place he was. She may not really believe he is coming back but she has a fervorent wish and being there makes her closer to him. Haha that’s my thoughts anyways. Your story is open to interpretation and I like that, despite its sadness.
Thanks Mandi your thoughts are pretty good
Thanks Michael. Have a great Sunday!
Hi Michael. I have a question did you, would you be interested in being interviewed as a blogger/writer. I do a interview series every three weeks or so and would love to send some questions to fill out! My email is firstname.lastname@example.org if you’re interested.
I’ll respond to your email Mandi
Thanks Michael 😊🎈
She went, “softly into that dark night” – softly and gently, her welcoming husband waiting with open arms on the other side. Death is not always morbid, in many ways accepting it is part of life makes the leaving – or having been left behind – much lovelier. Thank you for another wonderful story ❤
Thanks so much
My pleasure 🙂
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