November 1st, 2016


The Widow

She stood alone arms wrapped tightly around her body, more to keep her from exploding than as protection from the chill air of November. Her newly bestowed state of widowhood had not really sunk in, though her rational mind knew that the casket being loaded from the back door of the hospital contained the mortal remains of her husband of two months. In her mind she was still feeling the high of a just confirmed pregnancy and the wonder of new love. Yet, it was at this moment that the darkness entered her and began to grow, just as the newly formed life within her grew.

Appropriately clad in black, she managed the necessary decisions, arranged for the care of her two small daughters, and accepted the folded flag with due respect. Though today, the whole affair is a dim thing in her memory, the flag stands out of the black, in it's red, white, and blueness, a spot of color in all the blackness.

Now an old woman, as November rolls round, especially when the first day is all gray and cold, she remembers and the blackness that has never gone away totally becomes large. The flag, long gone, decorating a robber's lair, not there for consolation. She is left again to wonder why, what if,...and go about her day relying on time to soothe that which will never heal.