Something nagged me to Visit the dear old Couple. Married seventy four Years, they're Inseparable. Carrying two blueberry Muffins, I rang Their door bell. When Jeb opened the Door I asked if Hilda was home. "No," he said, "She died." I stood aghast! Had Jeb suddenly gone Mad? No, his mind Was clear. His wife was truly Gone. She had been buried Way back home, And none of us had Known. He apologized, "I meant to call." But I don't believe He could. He's ninety six, After all. He pointed out her Empty chair, And her picture he placed There so he could See her still. "What can I do?" I asked. He couldn't think Of a single thing. His daughter brought Meals and tended To his needs. "Do you work puzzles?" "No, but Hilda did." "Do you read?" "No." "Do you listen to Books on tape?" "No." "What do you do?" "Just sit." (An old western was Playing on his T.V.) So I just sat and listened To him talk. I know his heart was Breaking, but He didn't let it Show. Before I left, I Hugged him, Held his hands, And prayed. And as I walked out The door I vowed I would return, If just to come and Sit a spell with Jeb. (I changed the names for privacy.) |