She sat in the corner of the room looking out the window. The sun washed over
her face gently reflecting off specks of silver and white in her hair. Her
profile against white curtains looked like she was posing for a portrait.
I stood quietly a distance away not wanting to disturb her moment of peace. She
had been struggling for some time now after the death of her spouse.
"So, how long do you plan on standing there?" She said without looking my way.
She caught me off guard. I didn't think she even knew I was there.
"If only I had a camera, it would make a wonderful portrait," I said.
She turned, looked at me and said, "A picture of loneliness."
I took a deep breath and said, "You don't have to be lonely."
She turned and looked out the window once more.
"I love watching the birds. They seem so happy," she said.
"That's because they are with other birds. Although they compete for the food
you supply they seem to enjoy being together. I have a holly bush in my yard. It
fills up every morning with sparrows. I watch them fly out to the bird feeders
and return to their perch's somewhere in the bush. Their chirping sounds like a
church choir warming up before the service."
She smiled and said, "I wish I were a bird so I could just fly away."
I walked toward her and stood next to the chair where she was seated.
"How many years has it been?" I asked.
"Too many," she replied.
"You still miss him, don't you."
She sighed and said, "It's like the sun doesn't shine on my day."
Then I said something stupid. It was one of those things you say when trying to
comfort someone. One of those things that come out of your mouth and as if time
suddenly moved in slow motion, you can see them hanging there in mid air. You
wish you could take them back. You wish you hadn't said it at all.
"Will you ever love again?"
There was silence for what seemed eternity. She never moved as she continued
looking out the window.
I let the moment go and stood there quietly staring at the floor.
I was hoping she hadn't heard me.
Then turning her head toward me, I could see a small tear running down her face.
"Will I ever love again?"
Her eyes moved slowly back and forth as if she was searching her soul for just
the right answer.
Then she said softly, "I am loving, still."
I moved to a chair nearby and we sat there watching the birds.
How foolish of me to ask such a question. When one loves so deeply and for so
long, love never ends.
They are "Loving Still."
Bob Perks Bob@BobPerks.com
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