Let It Wait

The cooing of the mourning dove in the backyard reminds me I should be crying. I have been and will be but it catches me at a bad time. I just woke up.

I was ready, honestly, to let loose first thing but thought I’d hold off this morning, at least until after breakfast. So, I replace the dove’s plaintive call with

the whistling of a tea kettle. I bring my buttered English muffin and clear glass mug of Earl Grey tea to the bamboo side table in front of the living room window and lean

forward on the wicker chair to get a good view. At the sight of a goldfinch, I let my heart soar. I feel guilty about it but don’t resist. Sunny yellow with black

and white markings, the fickle bird does a loop around the sunflowers, darts away, comes back, gets lost in the petals, disappears. The dove, faintly in the distance, reasserts

its demand that I cry my heart out, and I know I can’t delay forever but it can wait, I tell myself, at least until I don’t see my reflection in the tea anymore. The muffin

long gone, I put off, sip by sip, finishing the lukewarm drink. Reluctant to down the final remnants, I stare at my blurring face in the cup as it slowly refills drop by drop.