The Waiting Bench / by Ainav R.W
A little girl dances around a bench oblivious, happy.
She does not carry the weight of the world.
Later she sits on the bench, a little older, worry seeping in.
Next year I will… Once I get the grades… When I’m older I’ll be…
A few more years pass and she is on the bench, sitting and waiting, waiting for the next thing to lead her to her destiny, to her plans.
A few more years pass and she sits on the bench completely lost.
Nothing went as planned.
I’m not a doctor… Not a lawyer…
She sits and waits for things to make sense, for a solution to her problems to walk by. Maybe a man, maybe a mentor.
Just anyone who will guide her along.
More years pass and she occupies the bench after a day at work.
Not a career, but a job.
Not a life, an existence.
She has not found her way.
Many years pass and she must walk slowly to the bench.
Her face is marred by the worry lines that have long since taken root.
Her hair is white, her shoulders hunched, crushed by the weight she has carried.
She does not wait anymore.
She knows it won’t be coming.