She Waits

*As a teen, Cheryl knew that if she could just lose those last 10 pounds, everything would be better.  People would like her more.  Men would be more attracted to her.  So, she waited to go out.  She waited to attend the parties and she waited to socialize.

*As a young woman, Cheryl held the precious piece of depression glass in her hands, turning it this way and that way; admiring the beauty of the hand-blown piece.  It was a treasure passed down from her grandmother.  She wanted to set it in the middle of the table.  It would make such a beautiful display!  But she decided that she should wait for a special day to display the treasure.  She carefully wrapped it up in its tissue paper and placed it back in the box she kept stored in the closet.

*In the back of the storage shed was a box Cheryl didn’t remember.  After blowing the dust off the top and opening the box, she pulled away the bubble wrap.  She was surprised to see a box full of baseball memorabilia that she had purchased at a flea market years ago.  Maybe she should take them into that sports shop to see what they’re worth.  She shook her head.  No.  She’d wait.  Closing the box, she resumed her search for the Christmas ornaments.

*Dan left town on an early spring morning.  His trailer and car were loaded down with the remainder of his belongings.   He held Cheryl in his arms and looked down into her sad blue eyes.  She looked up at him in a silent plea.  “Don’t go.” She silently begged.  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He promised.  She nodded and pushed back the tears that threatened to spill over.  He gave her a final quick hug and was gone.

*Cheryl rises slowly from her chair.  At 86, her daily walk is no longer an easy task, nor a pleasant one.  She passes the closet, pausing to gather her shawl before heading out into the foggy morning air.  The closet is full of her boxed treasures, there is room for little else.  She pulls the shawl around her shoulders and opens the back door.

The path winds through the back of Cheryl’s property.  What was once a lovely garden, carefully tended by younger hands, is now a mostly-barren landscape.  The only thing that remains are a few wild rose bushes; yellow and faded.  The roses cling tightly, scaling the outer walls of the crumbling storage shed.  The shed leans a little more every year.  Cheryl knows that one day she will take her walk and the shed will be lying flat on the ground; nothing but a pile of decaying lumber and moldy cardboard boxes.

After considerable effort and several stops to rest, the path finally takes Cheryl to the summit.  While waiting for her breathing to slow, she scans the area.  The fog has lifted enough for her to see the one road that leads in and out of her small mountain village.

There is not much to look at from up here.  There are a few sheep grazing lazily in the pasture below.  There is no other movement.  If Dan were to return to her, she would be able to see his arrival from this vantage point.  Nothing.

Cheryl waits.

Copyright © 2018 Penny Wilson

*This is in response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt.  You can get in on the fun HERE.

 *How many of us waste away precious time waiting for the perfect time, the perfect situation that we think will make everything better?  We wait for the perfect moment to use something, while it crumbles away, forgotten in some dark corner of our lives.  We think If I were only skinnier, richer, more popular, that we will finally be happy.  There is no perfect time.  Grab life and live it.  Today!