HOME | DD

Description
A woman sits alone in her kitchen, dinner for one laid out before her. Trembling hands rest in her lap, and lips softly whisper the evening prayer she'd learned soon after getting married. She looks down at her silver wedding band, then across to his empty seat. At first, a year had seemed impossibly endless, and anything longer was an unthinkable eternity. Now, two years since his deployment, there was still no word as to the end of his service. She missed him, simple as the tears rolling down her face. After so long without him, it was too easy to believe he wasn't ever coming home. But she couldn't do that to him, not after what they'd made it through together. She would wait an eternity before she stopped for his return.

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A man sits in a hospital room, watching over a woman with greying hair and an IV taped to her arm. He walks to her bed and looks down into the face he knew, now slack and listless. If only he could see her eyes light up one last time, watch her smile, hear her voice. He folds her frail hand between his own just as a nurse walks in. She offers him a small smile, "It's alright if you go home. We'll take care of her, and you can get some proper sleep." "No," he says, slowly shaking his head. She looks at him for a long moment. "This is the only thing keeping her alive," she says, gesturing to the IV tube. "That's not very much of a life. Maybe..." He already knows what she's going to say; it's not the first time they've suggested it. "Maybe it's time to let her go. Just stop the IV drip; it's a merciful end, peaceful even." She sighs resignedly at his silence, and walks out of the room. Alone, his tears drip onto the white bed sheets. His heart aches, seeing his mother reduced to such a state. But knowing he let her go without doing everything he could to save her wasn't something he could live with. He would wait a hundred lifetimes before giving up on her.

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A mother stands with the flicking nub of a candle, eyes wide and somber despite the late hour. Six and a half hours at a candlelight vigil was nothing compared nearly ten years. Ten years since her four year old son disappeared from his preschool in broad daylight. Ten years of sleepless nights, desperate searches, and hopeless tears. She watches as the little flame finally winks out. A gentle hand grasps her shoulder. "It's time to go home." She simply stares out into the darkness as her sister turns back to the road. She stops as she realizes she isn't following. She sighs, breath heavy with words left unspoken. "I miss him just as badly as you do, you know." No, she didn't; she could never know the soul wrenching pain a mother felt at the loss of her child. "But, ten years is a long time to wait. It's time to move on. He's not coming home." Sickened to her stomach, she sits, leaving her sister to turn back to the car with a sigh. Under the silvery light of a half-moon, she sees his face in every shadow of the forest, hears his footsteps with every rustling branch. It was impossible to give up, not on her only child. So she would wait until the day they found him, or until he came home.

Description
A woman sits alone in her kitchen, dinner for one laid out before her. Trembling hands rest in her lap, and lips softly whisper the evening prayer she'd learned soon after getting married. She looks down at her silver wedding band, then across to his empty seat. At first, a year had seemed impossibly endless, and anything longer was an unthinkable eternity. Now, two years since his deployment, there was still no word as to the end of his service. She missed him, simple as the tears rolling down her face. After so long without him, it was too easy to believe he wasn't ever coming home. But she couldn't do that to him, not after what they'd made it through together. She would wait an eternity before she stopped for his return.

-----------

A man sits in a hospital room, watching over a woman with greying hair and an IV taped to her arm. He walks to her bed and looks down into the face he knew, now slack and listless. If only he could see her eyes light up one last time, watch her smile, hear her voice. He folds her frail hand between his own just as a nurse walks in. She offers him a small smile, "It's alright if you go home. We'll take care of her, and you can get some proper sleep." "No," he says, slowly shaking his head. She looks at him for a long moment. "This is the only thing keeping her alive," she says, gesturing to the IV tube. "That's not very much of a life. Maybe..." He already knows what she's going to say; it's not the first time they've suggested it. "Maybe it's time to let her go. Just stop the IV drip; it's a merciful end, peaceful even." She sighs resignedly at his silence, and walks out of the room. Alone, his tears drip onto the white bed sheets. His heart aches, seeing his mother reduced to such a state. But knowing he let her go without doing everything he could to save her wasn't something he could live with. He would wait a hundred lifetimes before giving up on her.

-----------

A mother stands with the flicking nub of a candle, eyes wide and somber despite the late hour. Six and a half hours at a candlelight vigil was nothing compared nearly ten years. Ten years since her four year old son disappeared from his preschool in broad daylight. Ten years of sleepless nights, desperate searches, and hopeless tears. She watches as the little flame finally winks out. A gentle hand grasps her shoulder. "It's time to go home." She simply stares out into the darkness as her sister turns back to the road. She stops as she realizes she isn't following. She sighs, breath heavy with words left unspoken. "I miss him just as badly as you do, you know." No, she didn't; she could never know the soul wrenching pain a mother felt at the loss of her child. "But, ten years is a long time to wait. It's time to move on. He's not coming home." Sickened to her stomach, she sits, leaving her sister to turn back to the car with a sigh. Under the silvery light of a half-moon, she sees his face in every shadow of the forest, hears his footsteps with every rustling branch. It was impossible to give up, not on her only child. So she would wait until the day they found him, or until he came home.