Portrait

PORTRAIT

- inspired by the picture below -

Her eyes were tired and clouded from age, but the smile was strong and bright, though a little scared. She that knew her strength and her will were disappearing in microscopic portions, stolen by the cruel, impersonal marching seconds, minutes, hours.

Breathing came hard. It seemed that she could never get breath enough even though she quietly sat all day playing card games with herself. Her body ached for air, screamed for it with relentless desire. Her bony body heaved with every breath.

They sat talking until at last her friend saw the portrait struck by the sunlight beaming through a window. Her friend stopped speaking and gazed.

"What?" Martha asked as water trickled from her eyes. The word escaped breathlessly, nearly a whisper.

"The portrait on the wall," Barbara said. "I never noticed it. It is beautiful!"

"Well, it’s not new. Been there for years and years."

Barbara rose and walked over to the wall.

"It’s YOU!" she nearly screamed.

Martha managed a weak smile as the water from her eyes gushed and wet the table. All her unhappiness rose at once inside her and she shook as if her stick like bones would snap from the force. She could not control it.

The portrait was of a young woman with long hair. The face was proud and determined without defiance or malice. It was that absence of fear in the expression that Barbara recognized and matched to her best friend whose body had wasted to bone and skin, whose face wrinkled and collapsed.

Barbara saw the shaking woman, skin turning blue, fearless eyes. Martha’s head turned to look skyward and Barbara swears she saw her soul rush upward and out of her the instant she died.

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