the waiting game


Night follows day. This age has been a long time coming. Ninety years of life not same of living.

She moans and creaks, tells me her joints are rusty, tells me she’s past her use by date.

Father Time is playing a cruel game with her, with all of us. He’s keeping her waiting.



This is an entry in this week’s Trifecta Challenge – between 33 and 333 words, using the word RUSTY, with the definition provided…




23 thoughts on “the waiting game

  1. I take care of the elderly, and I watched as well my father’s slow decline, losing his physical abilities fairly quickly after the first stroke laid him out, and more slowly, losing his cognitive abilities. It was nightmarish. Not everyone struggles the way he did, but growing old ain’t for the faint of heart.

  2. this is beautiful in its sadness.

    thanks for linking up.

  3. beautiful and uncomfortable to think about at the same time!

  4. The “past her use by date” is moving me to tears, not sure if they are tears of beauty or sadness. {{{hugs}}} Kozo

  5. Age is so cruel 😦

  6. Father Time is having some fun at our expense πŸ™‚

  7. My grandfather was fond of saying that old age was not for wimps and sissies. “Past her use-by date” makes me think of the They Might Be Giants song “Dead”

  8. I always have mixed feelings about this. My mother died young, at 57, out of the blue. I often wish I could have taken care of her in her old age. And then I think how difficult that would be, as you have written, to watch her decline. Tough either way. Your piece is beautifully done.

  9. You wrote this scene beautifully!

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