SILENT STRENGTH

   It was five o’clock in the morning. She sat drumming her fingers on the old round kitchen table. The room was just beginning to lighten as the sun rose to meet the horizon. Her dark, dirty hair hung heavily on her shoulders, framing her pale white face bearing bags heavy enough to slam anybody’s eyes shut. As the side door slowly creaked open, he was paralyzed by the glare thrown at him from those deep, dark eyes. It was miraculous to her that for being such a petite woman she knew the fear she planted in his heart. As he joined his tired wife at the kitchen table, she merely rose and shuffled into bed.

- Kerry Middeker