Longing and Waiting

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Morning on the lake was placid solitude. Birds chirped in harmony, whose tweeting echoed across the surface of the water to find a home in Oleander’s heart. She had been lying in her rowboat overcome by hardships, torn from the inside, crushed by every single blow of life. But here, in this place where green mountains and rocky cliffs rose at the water’s edge, she sensed the contentment that grows deep within and comes from a source unknown to most but known to some.

And she breathed.

An inhale long and slow and lovely, an exhale to push away the longing in the deepest recesses of her soul. How could she not think of him? Her darling love that had been away too long, soon to return, he had promised. But recent misfortunes had come into her life without him one after another, and she desperately missed his arms, his touch, his kiss.

This was their lake. Hours of passionate lovemaking in the lakeside inn would always lead back here, a row in the boat over calm waters that spoke peace to their hearts and nourished their love. He would hold her, and they would kiss and melt together into lovers’ bliss.

As she dipped her foot over the edge of the boat into the cool water, she closed her eyes and dreamed of him. She could see his eyes now and almost feel them watching her, always with love, and sometimes with lust. It felt good to be wanted, desired, loved.

And then a sound cut the water, the birds, the morning, and the dream. No, it couldn’t be! She sat up quickly and her heart skipped a beat. Another boat in the distance was rowing its way in her direction. Was it? Could it be?

Tears trickled to the surface and filled her eyes as she cupped her hands over her mouth. As the boat drew nearer, she saw him, his face radiant with a smile, her lasting hope and joy.

He was here.

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