I stood at the waiting door. The waiting door that I used to wait for years at. Eternities went by, and there were no tears to cry in the daylight, but many nights crying myself to sleep. I wasn’t sad waiting. Anxious, because I was desperately hopeful. It seemed that my short lived hope quickly smashed into disappointment. Soaked little Precious Angel blanket. Poor Molly; the nights she spent hugging me back. The walls heard it all. Smack. Scream. Singing. Wailing. The sound of silence. The voice that kept reminding me that you were not around, and that you would never come back to save me. I stood at the waiting door. Tippy toes, peaking out of the window. Watching for your car. I saw enough cars that looked exactly like yours, to break one thousand fragile, innocent hearts. Years later I think of how I waited for him as I looked calmly out of that same waiting door. Eyes of a child no more. Although, nothing has chanced. Once again, anxious. Forgotten, at my waiting door… everything has changed.