Frayed

She waits in anguish for every phone call.

This is her existence every minute, of every hour, of every day.

Without end.

Each ring bringing her more hope and with it the promise of a renewed future.

But also grief inconsolable and unbearable pain.

Something no mother should suffer.

With fondness she remembers what was the best day of her life, and will ever be.

As two swathed bundles were handed to her.

But that smile slowly curves downward, revealing an embittered shell.

Will she ever come to terms with what happened?

For while one improves, the other decays.

While one embraces the joyous rivers of childhood, the other shall wither away.

A life lost.

Beyond all help, say the healers.

The soft words of others are worthless.

“They’ll be alright” “Give it some time” “Don’t worry so much.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Nor does she have ears for them, silky and ingratiating.

What do they know, naught but fools.

In agonizing silence does she sit by the phone, blank eyes, idle hands.

Waiting, just waiting.

Glistening slivers run a trail down her dry cheeks, to quivering lips.

To let go of one, to hold on to the other.

The phone rings.

A shaking hand inches towards it......