Thursday, April 19, 2012

At the Stop Sign

At the stop sign she sees an older couple.

The man is on the woman’s left, and with the subdued colors of his clothing, it seems he is the canvas for the woman—his beloved—in her turquoise shirt. She holds his right hand in her left as her right hand rests on her cane with firmness and grace. The woman watching is glad there is no one behind her at this stop sign, and the couple so dearly attentive to each other, aren’t aware they have a witness.

She stays watching the couple for just a few extra moments—a pause to the day.

The couple continues looking, standing on a walkway that overlooks the mountain and the highway. They stay there looking; she, holding onto her cane, her white hair blowing in the breeze. They watch the cars pass by—a finger points to the mountain in the distance, the sun shining brightly on them.

There are still no cars behind on this back road, at this stop sign. She must move on, though, from admiring the love she sees from a distance, in the moment, and into the future.

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