Her bright white hair lit up with the sun behind her and her face was blocked by shadowing mystery. Did she wait one last time to make contact? And what kept the connect carefully unmet? A hello from a pew far in the back and a wave. Would it be the last wave? A wave hello? And goodbye? Guilt and shame for not getting up, walking over to her, meeting face to face, and soaking in the historical depth of friendship, family, and kindness.
It had been years ago, a longing, a memory so vague and incomplete filled a gap of blank space from her nurturing kindness to two ltitle girls lavishing them with gifts. She vanished. Where had she gone this women who once was welcoming, warm, and brunette? Her hair as white as the glowing heavens above?
The burning burning of the visit with her in church, as gravity grew to a new heaviness in the pew, the connect was unlinked, and only left were the faded visits of gifts and sound advice emptying and draining . will she only be a childhood caregiver for guardians two little girls?
The stinging of her firey white hair from a distance was the last time, a sign, and a life lesson a cold heart of ice thawed a little more from that point in time. What could it have been if she came closer and closer with her message? Would it have been clearer, and more pleasant building a path of uinty, and a bridge of life.
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