Waiting

Lotus Flower, Acrylic on Paper, 8 x 10, 2024 by Helen Ries

My life changed one evening when I opened the front door and found my beautiful mother on the floor. Sadly she died a few days later. 

When she died I assumed the immeasurable responsibility of caring for the life and wellbeing of my disabled brother. 

And ever since then I have been waiting. 

I am not sure what I have been waiting for. It could be any number of things. 

I have been waiting for my mother to come home, to walk through the front door and sing “Hello!” like she used to.  Perhaps she would tell me she was just kidding, she was on holiday and she is actually fine. 

I might have been waiting for an specialist to say “Just go back to your life and let me do this for you.” 

Or maybe I have been waiting for someone who is an expert to give me a book of instructions on how to do this. Hopefully the book would include a section that explains how to do this without getting sick from the pressure that weighs me down.  

Possibly I have been waiting for someone divine to predict that we will be OK. 

I have definitely been waiting for someone to say “By the way, you are doing a good job.” 

It was sunny and warm last week when my brother and I went for our usual a walk around the block. 

When I looked at the new buds on the trees,  it occurred to me that I have now been waiting for 10 years.  

No one is coming and there is nothing to wait for. 

This is it.