The Old Man

It's been months since the old man has left, yet the drift caused by his departure has yet to fill.

The old lady sits at the table, staring at the empty seat that was once occupied by her love. A smell of smoke flows through the air as she lights another cigarette, letting the nicotine take control so she can stop crying.

Her sons rarely talk to her anymore, too burdened with memories to carry on conversation without painful reminiscing. She carefully folds up the curtains she's been cleaning, all the while hoping that the work would distract her from the torture inside of her. But it did not.

She glances at the pictures on her refridgerator, from her grandchildren's baby pictures to their highschool days playing football and marching in the band. Time had flown by, and she felt blessed that he had hung on for so long, long enough to see them grow up. But yet, she felt, it still wasn't long enough.

An eternity wasn't long enough to spend time with that man she loved. God she missed him.