listening

And now I sit holding the phone. Wondering and waiting. Debating, though there's no real question about what I can do.

Nothing.

Nothing except wait and wonder and be ready to reply. Nothing except try to find the words for the girl who is losing her mother. The weeks have passed, have become days, maybe hours. She sent a message to let me know. I tell her I'm sorry. I tell her she's strong. Shake my head and sigh at what she's been through. She tells me yesterday was her birthday.

I ask after the family she's been holding together. The conversation ends.

It will start again, I know, though maybe not with that question. It will start again when when she needs to, when she wants to. When she needs a break. Or maybe when she's gone.