The theme of time and eternity continues this week in my original flash fiction, “Waiting.” My imagination is stirred with the intersection of the concrete and kingdom come. Do time and dimensions overlap? Does the waiting in life stop at death or move beyond?
She was 102. Her husband had passed twelve years ago. Their only son, David, had been gone some forty-eight years. She grimaced. She had outlived everyone—her siblings and friends. The Hospice nurse offered her some morphine.
“No, thank you. My mind is all I have.” Memories floated on a hymn sung long ago in a little brick church. A hum crossed her lips as a wave of pain stole her thoughts.
“Hello, Mama.” He kissed her cheek.
“David?” He was such an inquisitive boy. Grew-up to become a scientist.
He pulled at her hand. “Come on, we’re waiting.”
“Yes, of course.” There was an explosion of evergreen and cinnamon apple cider—Christmas! Cataract free, she blinked. Vibrant hues cuddled her warm. She ran. Laughter burst from her chest.
“Sarah!” She swung her little sister round and round. They hugged for a week.
On the porch, her husband kissed her again for the first time over and over.
David sat in her lap for a month. He moved a little toy car up her arm. He placed his hands on her cheeks, pinching them gently into a fish mouth. “Bye, Mama.”
“I’m going to explore the Universe.”
Her head cocked to the side. She didn’t understand.
“I’ve been waiting. You were the last one who remembered me. Now, I’m free.” Immediately, a comet tail of vapor swished toward the sun and past the stars, two thousand years.
Her hair flew in the breeze as she waved. “See you.”
She turned and followed her path back to the party.