Tess Painting

Tess Acrylic on Framed Canvas. 16” X 12” I wait. I wait for time to pass. I wait without patience but patience I must have. I wait for the evening to come and then for night to fall so another day dawns and I can strike this last one out. I wait in sadness when I cannot see myself waiting another day. I wait when I am happy only to remember why I was sad and I it makes me sad. And I wait counting on the day getting nearer because surely it can’t be that much longer now. Not now that it has been so long but another day passes and I hear nothing, no call, no letter. But when I see the flag on the Letter box I am struck with fear. I approach it with caution, half hoping you have written, half wishing you didn’t. Scared it might be the letter. The one I dread most but it never is! When you do write I read every line and smile seeing you speak the words to me. Then I read between the lines and you are not speaking anymore but I see you are writing cautiously. Mouthing silently the phrases to yourself, as if you want to take the sting out. Then I worry if you said things too lightly. Perhaps hiding things from me. Then I pick at the writing. Is it too fast, too scared, too flippant, too impersonal? I am tired and I am stressed. No one understands what it takes to be the wife of a soldier. I should not be another victim of this damned war.