She tends her garden in a loving manner, careful to make sure her plants are in the right place. They react to her kindness by blooming gloriously where they are planted. The sun bathes them with its light and they are refreshed by the summer thundershowers that come calling. Occasionally they are tossed by the wind when mother nature makes the weather severe. But she gets right back out there and nurses them along to their original beauty.
Mounds of Shasta Daisies, Brown-eyed Susan’s, lacy pink Babies Breath, and Roses with blooms so large they are top heavy from the weight bring oohs and aahs from all who see them.
The rabbits are her worst enemy in the garden, but she can’t help but feel sorry for the baby rabbits when they fall victim to the neighbor’s cat.
She is keeper of the house now. It has been two years.
Days that drag.
She scolds herself for not staying busy enough. If only she stayed active, perhaps the loneliness would subside. So she tries her hand at the latest Sudoku puzzle, reads her Prevention magazine, watches for her elusive Hummingbirds when they come to her feeder.
Simple things bring her joy and yet she is seldom happy.
Her body is tired and shows some signs of slowing down. It is painful for her when she rises in the morning but she slowly works out the kinks and prepares for another day.
A day of waiting; for the phone to ring, the mailman to come, the paper to be delivered.
She is thankful for the ability to drive, but doesn’t trust herself to venture too far knowing she may not have the privilege forever.
She is a realist; and a dreamer. She dreams of a better world for her family, for her children to all be close to her again. She cannot understand why the world has become what it is today and so many people have to be hurting.
So she tends her garden, sleeps alone in her bed at night, but lovingly kisses the picture of her other half before she closes her eyes to slip into a restless sleep.
So she can start another day of waiting.