Being with Georgette #1
I tried not to disturb her when I got out of bed, but Georgette was already awake.
Without turning, she said, “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
I said, “I’ve been awake half an hour. I thought I woke you.”
Georgette said nothing.
“Would you like some breakfast?” I asked.
An hour later, the tray was still next to her side of the bed, the food untouched.
“Your eggs are cold,” I said.
Georgette said, “I’m sorry.”
“Did you sleep?”
“I know how hard this is for you.”
She didn’t say anything.
I said, “Should I take the tray?”
Just before noon I entered the bedroom to take the tray downstairs.
Georgette was asleep.
I left the tray undisturbed.
I looked at her face. Pale, sad, streams of tears had run down her cheeks off and on throughout the night and soaked into the pillowcase.
She had never been more beautiful.
I left her to her sleep.
I left her to her sleep and went out into the snowy field in the freezing warmth of the winter sunshine. Birds flew across the deep blue sky over our small house in the distance.
Over my small Georgette.
My beautiful, warm, sleeping Georgette.