How long will he tarry?
She waited for him like
the flower waits for the
rain to quench its thirst
or the sun to give it warmth.
How long will he tarry?
She looked in all directions
hoping to see the familiar
figure coming towards her.
How long will he tarry?
The sun was setting and soon
darkness would unfurl its long, gnarled
fingers around the bench where
she sat, the pale moon her
only source of light. During the day
the park was like a friend, warm and
welcoming but at night, it was a stranger.
How long will he tarry? As the sun
hovered over the horizon, she felt a
chill. What if this wasn’t him being
tardy? What if he doesn’t come? What
if the last goodbye was really the last
one?
The sound of a step behind her, alerted
her that someone was approaching.
Rising to her feet she turned, her heart
racing. Relief washed over her when
she saw him. She ran to him and threw
her arms around him. “I was afraid
that you wouldn’t come.”
He held her closely. “I had to come,” he
said. “And tell that this is not goodbye or
the end of us. I wanted to to say that I will
miss you until we meet again. And we will meet
again, one sunny day much like the day when we
first met.”
She felt the tears run down her cheeks but
there was a smile on her face. This wasn’t a
goodbye–it was just the end of a chapter and
one day, they would start a new one. Until then,
“Let’s tarry here for a little while,” she suggested.
And they stood there, in the moonlit park hugging.
Notes to Women 