elj613
I bellow at the top of my lungs. I hope and pray that someone will hear me. Anyone. And yet even though I exert myself, nothing comes. Nothing. Nothing at all.
One dozen. Eggs come to mind at first. One dozen of them sitting there white and uncracked. Untouched. They are perfect and pristine. I'm jealous of those eggs sometimes.
She sat waiting on the bench still. The clock ticked on and on endlessly. Finally she heard the train's long slow whistle pour into the station. She got up eagerly ready to reach out to him.
A bright light, filling a room full of cold, white tiles. She sat on the hard, wooden bench waiting. She checked her watch and the arrival clock over and over, but she minutes passed and she was still alone.
Monday. The day of my grandmother's funeral. Just two more days to process this. I won't even be there, but I know I need to have a funeral for her one my own just one way to honor her, even if its by myself.
writing since 2011 · 5 entries · 5 days shown up
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funeralwhitesatbenchwaitingclockdozeneggsmondaygrandmother'sprocesshonorbrightlightfillingroom