we're not even trying to change

layered in years of resentment and hate, she somehow kept feeding the fire that exhausted her bones and wore out her spirit. she continued to hate the men that were absent and inconsiderate, the men who were in her life but served as useless background props. she needed more. much more. and she expected more. but didnt get it...

it wasnt until one cold winter night, while plowing through the chill, that she had time to think. and in those moments, as she sat with a blank stare overlooking the amber sunset, she saw a young girl with an aging man. although the little girl looked unhappy with her arms crossed solidly across her chest, the older man looked her dead straight in the eyes, said a few words, and fell silent. the little girl looked like she was trying to hold back something as she bit her little nails. within a few minutes, she threw her arms around the aging man who stayed low to the ground, beside her the entire time. even though his bones must have been ravaged, he stayed squatted to be with her.

she kept replaying that over and over in her mind. the old man was patient, in his stoic silence. but nevertheless patient. had she ever been patient with the men in her life? did she expect things to happen immediately? could she wait in a period of not knowing?

as the sky fell to a shade of deep blue, she held onto her knees even tighter. it was going to be a long night; she might as well brace herself sooner than later.