Post 1640. Sunday November 26
Each afternoon she walks down to the harbour, huddles in the corner of a wooden shelter and looks out at the ocean as the fishing boats come home laden with their glistening twitching cargo. One by one they glide towards the quay, the throbbing of their engines drowned by shrill shrieking from billowing clouds of ravenous gulls. She counts them in, whilst praying that one more boat will return than left that morning.
The fishing folk no longer notice her, but she is always there. Always watching, always waiting; praying that today will be the day he'll return.
Each evening after the catch has been landed, the boats moored for the night and the seagulls have finished scavenging for leftovers, she walks to the harbour's edge and lays her hand on the same rusting bollard she’s touched for thirty-two long years.
She looks down at the empty space in the row of bobbing boats, a space that once was his mooring; a space she keeps for him when he returns. He will return, of that she is certain. If not tomorrow, the day after. He will return, of that she’s sure.
Sometimes hope lives on when nothing else does. Well told!ReplyDelete
That's life. Thanks mimiDelete
Such a tender story.ReplyDelete
Love is indeed, patient, isn't it?
Beautifully written, as always!
Yep, I'm still waiting! Cheers moon.Delete
Hi Keith - well told ... evocative of a fisherman's life, as too his widow ... and her love for him - HilaryReplyDelete
Thanks so much Hilary.Delete
After 32 years, I think I'd start having a few doubts. Maybe it's time to let go. If he could, I'm sure he would have sent a message home by now...that is unless he's either dead or prefers to be "disappeared".ReplyDelete
It's become a ritual. I felt she would not wish to go on without that glimmer of hope no matter how hopelesss it may be.Delete
Unusually we have struck upon a similar theme for once!ReplyDelete
Indeed we have Iain!Delete
Beautifully poignant tale. So very well written, Keith.ReplyDelete
Thank you so much neelDelete
The pain of waiting and hoping .... I guess it fills up a vacuum somewhere.ReplyDelete
Great story! Thirty-two years is a long time to wait.ReplyDelete
She'll wait til the day she dies. Cheers JoshuaDelete
This pulls at the heart, Keith. Such good writing. ---- SuzanneReplyDelete
Kind of you to say so, thank you SuzanneDelete
Sweet story of hope. Very much like Iain's story. Good one Keith.ReplyDelete