Days grow and fade, crumbling to dust behind us. We look back to see even our last footsteps are now out of reach. Too late to turn away from this dusty road, we are left with only two options.
End it here, now. Sit and wait for the sunset.
Or, carry on towards the horizon, hoping that its hazy distance hides that secret for which we have so long searched.
Here she sits by the side of the road, waiting. She doesn't really know what she's waiting for. These days it seems it just comes down to waiting for the time to pass.
Years ago, when she was young: before marriage, before children, before age, it seemed as though the days passed so easily. One day she was a girl, the next a woman, then a bride and then a mother. It seemed her life grew with her to fill the days.
Back then, she gave a brief smile as she thought of her own mother. 'Back then,' was her mother's standard conversational opening. She remembered her and her mother shelling peas in the sun-bright scullery together. Freshly-shelled peas, now that was something she hadn't had in… in… she couldn't remember how long. The small, young ones, raw straight into the mouth from the pod. So long, such a long time ago. These days it was - or so it seemed - the icy cold frozen green bullets, or nothing.