The Wait

She sat by the phone and waited for the call. She’d been waiting for the call for at least a week now, although it felt like years. She sat there in the old torn chair. The brown leather was faded in some spots and pealing in others. The armrests have lost all the cushiony support that they once had. Now it felt like leather on wood. And she could swear that there was a spring poking her bottom but every time she stood to check she could never feel it. She pulled at some of the peeling leather. She stared at the phone. She loved her phone. She had an old fashion rotary phone. She remembered having one as a child. She searched for this heavy monster of a phone for months. She found several knock offs but those didn’t have the weight of a true rotary phone. Nor did it make that tiny bell ring sound when you set it down too hard. She could remember the day she found this phone. She was at another antique store. She was browsing the isles when she saw it. She tried not to get too excited until she actually felt this phone. It was shiny and black. She put her finger in the hole of the dialer and gave it a spin. She listened to it as it rolled back to its original spot. She picked it up and yes it had weight to it. She set it down slightly harder than necessary and she could hear the little bell ring sound it made. She knew at that moment she found her phone. She bought it and took it home. Now here it sits silent. She picked up the receiver for a moment just to see if it was working. Sure enough, there was a dial tone. She set it back down as fast as she could. What if they tried to call at that exact moment and couldn’t get through. She was so mad at herself for picking up the receiver. The “what ifs” would haunt her. She could hear the silent ticking of the clock on the wall. She stared at it as if it was the enemy. The time seemed to just tick, tick, tick, away from her. She’s been sitting in this chair for too long. She stood and stretched and went into the kitchen to make herself some ginger tea. She grabbed the red kettle off the stove and took off the lid. She filled it with water and put it on the stove. She turned on the burner and leaned against the wall. She wondered why would it take so long to call? What could possibly be the reason? After a few minutes, the tea kettle started to scream and she removed it from the burner. She turned off the stove and poured the scalding hot water over her teabag. She grabbed her teacup and the saucer and went back to the chair. She sat down and felt that spring again. She stood up and pushed down on the chair and could not find it. She sat back down and continued to wait. Her fat cat Simon came out from his hiding spot and jumped up onto her lap. He was a short, fat, grey cat. Simon was about 14 years old. She had him ever since he was a kitten and he knew whenever she was upset. He meowed at her and then rubbed his face against hers. She pushed his face back gently and he pushed back against her hand. Then he put his paws on her shoulder and licked her nose. She gave in and began to pet his head gently. Simon rubbed his face against hers once more and then he settled into her lap. She started to relax ever so slightly finding a rhythm in petting Simon while listening to him purr. She just started to sit back in the chair when the phone rang. “Hello…”

Poetry In Motion Uncategorized

Becky DiFilippo View All →

I’m a writer… I love to write! I’ve been writing since I was eight years old. I can’t imagine life without stories. My life, and your life it’s a story that we are writing everyday.

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