Waiting for a Ride

She sat on the bench,
Trim and dainty, hands folded,
Feet set carefully together.
A soft pink ribbon bow
At the base of her throat,
Long sleeves, lace at the cuffs.
Her hair was white,
Carefully styled in short curls,
Her slippers were terry cloth,
Placed precisely side by side.
A middle aged woman,
Care lines just forming,
Leaned in close,
Saying, "Hello, Mom."
The smaller, older woman
Didn't acknowledge her.
Again, "Hello?"
The blue, blue stare off to nowhere
the only reply.
"Do you know who I am?"
"Of course I do! Hannah, I can't
believe you are acting like nothing
happened!"
Puzzled, the younger woman's eyes
welled with tears.
A voice, from behind her,
"What are you doing, Cora? Fine day isn't it?"
As she said this, the nurse took the younger
woman's arm.
"Why yes, yes it is! And I can't imagine what is
taking Ralph so long. I feel like I have been waiting
for my ride forever!"
Crystal clear in the young woman's mind,
Ralph was her teenage sweetheart,
Who didn't make it home from the war.