Ball Of Yarn

She rocks back and forth monotonously, untangling the web in her hands.  She glances out from the porch and sees a small girl skitter across, blond braids gliding behind her.  The girl rushes towards a tire swing and slides through in one graceful motion.  A man and woman stand at either side of her, smiling at each other as they push the swing.  He tips his fedora and kisses her on the cheek only to then pick up the girl and spin her around, their ring of laughter echoes in the wind.

On the porch steps, not ten feet away, a woman brushes her daughter’s hair.  Her face is serene and kisses the girl softly before she runs off to play, leaving a small lipstick stain on her temple.  The woman smoothed her golden hair down, attempting to hide her sadness that is evident in her eyes.  A car pulls up to the gate and she glances up curiously.  He is dressed in a crisp uniform, stepping out of the car, his brown suit pressed and his cap perfectly positioned.  She rushes to him at once, embracing him so forcefully that he stumbles backward.  He strokes her hair as she cries on his shoulder and he kisses her on the nose.

            As she sits on her porch swing, her aged hands move skillfully with the needles to weave a child’s sweater.  She sighs heavily, a lifetime of worries imbedded in her face.  Her hair has turned grey, silver strands shimmering when the sun hits it.  When a creaky car pulls into the driveway, she stands slowly, holding herself steady on the rail.  A young woman in a nurse’s uniform wraps around to the passenger side to help someone out of the car.  The process is slow, painstakingly slow but soon he emerges.  He no longer wears a hospital gown that outlined his frail bones.  He has a glow in his cheeks and extra pounds under his suspenders.  His cane causes him to shuffle gently but that doesn’t matter.  She descends the aged steps and hugs him longingly, weeping with happiness.