There is a women at my window — worn face and tired eyes.
A dark green scarf covers where her hair should be.
She gives me a faint smile, says hello.
How are you, I say.
Sick, she says. It’s the chemo.
My heart skips a beat.
Is it serious, I say.
Terminal, she says. Three to six months.
I’m so sorry, I say.
I still have hope, she says.
Will you be with family for Christmas? I say.
Yes, she says. All we want is a miracle.
I can’t speak.
That’s the best present I could ask for, she says.
I hope you get it, I say.
The words feel caught inside my throat.
God has a plan, she says.
Yes, I say. Just have to trust in Him.
Definitely, she says, smiling wider this time.
Have a great holiday, I say with a forced smile.
You too, she says.
God Bless, I say.
The tears are instantaneous, like breath.
There before I even recognize their arrival.
I close my eyes and try to pull it together.
All I can see is her face, our last Christmas.
All I can feel is how much I miss her.
All I can do is let the moment happen.
There is a women in the window of my mind — all the time.
She will live there forever, engraved, remembered.
With unfaltering faith and unwavering hope.
I love you, she says.
I love you, I say.
Leave Me Love.