She could feel his presence all around her and wished she could hear his voice, just one more time, assuring her that everything was going to be okay.
The old feelings came back. They would come every so often. As much as she hated herself for having them, especially after so many years, Rebekah welcomed them. She welcomed any real feeling.
Moving over in bed, her nose closer to his pillow, she breathed, deep. Hoping.
Grabbing the pillow she pulled it close and wrapped herself around it.
“Daniel,” she said, tears coming. “I miss you, Daniel.”
The ceiling fan massaged the air as the morning light made shadows dance around the ceiling. The dawning of each day and the eve of every night she lay, watching, hoping.
Wiping her eyes she pushed his pillow away, back into place. A couple of deep breaths and she rolled her legs over the side and her feet onto the floor. Her back ached and she waited for the blood to find it’s way to her toes.
Time. Age. She never used to mind them. Facts of life. Now they were the things she was fighting. Each day trying to hang on, finding a reason; knowing that she still had too long to go.
She shook her head. She used to know that Daniel had too long.
Rebekah stood and stretched. All she would try to worry about is today. That’s the best she could do.
First sentence of this story submitted by Cathy S. It received the third most votes for sentences submitted the week of October 1, 2012.
Please leave comments below on if you liked the direction I took the story, or if you would have personally went a different way. I would love to know!