Is It Time?

Sitting by her father’s bed, she sees he weighs less than 100 pounds.

“Should I ask for you to stay…or go?” she whispers.
He stalls and says, “Well, girl, truthfully, I’d like to go, if I have a choice.”
She nods deeply, “It’s your choice.”
“I’ve lived long enough, worked hard, but now I ain’t much good here anymore, don’t do nothin’ really, just sit around. I’m just tired.”
She looks around, “Have you seen anyone yet, do you think Mom will come and get you?”
“Mmm..you know, I’d like to think she would, now that you mention it.” he tries to sit up straight, but fails.
“Okay, maybe if we stay close to each other, she’ll come.” she scoots her chair closer to the bed.
 “Alright, maybe. Let’s give it a try.” he moves his head to the side toward her. 
They huddle, the two of them, in silence and anticipation. She falls asleep and dreams of holding hands with a million people, a million glowing orbs of everything. She wakes up to find nothing but an empty vessel; he is gone. 
Her Mother was always on time.

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