It’s not a
place where I wanted to be identified. I
would much rather still be seated with my peers in the “single women’s section”
or maybe with the “youth” (aha, that was long ago). I would love to be remembered as a “young married”
or even a “middle married,” but alas, I have gravitated to Widow’s Row and I’m
seated with Lavern and Juanita and Pat and Mildred. We all had long marriages, at least thirty
years or more; some went through long illnesses with their husbands, as well. I, however, went through no time at all. My Ron
was with me one night and gone the next morning. Now I sit on Widow’s
Row with Lavern and Juanita and Pat and Mildred.
We
meet for lunch sometimes because there is no one at home waiting for us anymore. As families walk into the restaurant and are
seated comfortably around us, we hear their laughter and see their happy faces;
happy to be there together. Yes, we sit
and talk, we eat and comment on our delicious sweet potato casserole or how the
coleslaw is too mayonnaise-y. Mildred
says her family raves about her vegetables and Juanita asks when we’re all
invited over so she can prove it. We
reminisce of how we used to cook for our families but now it is so tiring to
cook for just one—it’s no fun at all! We
get our doggie bags to take home our leftovers so we’ll have something to eat
for dinner later that night.
Next Sunday arrives
and we meet and greet each other again.
We sing and lift our voices on high in praise to God . . . and we sit on
Widow’s
Row.
No comments:
Post a Comment