Inside, the women are waiting.
They fold me into their midst without a word.
We settle in for the long night ahead.
Tea and coffee while the kids watch a cartoon on the TV.
Quiet conversations.
Time moves strangely.
Minutes feel like hours.
Hours feel like days.
Every sound makes me jump.
Every phone buzz sends my heart racing.
But there's no word.
No updates.
Just silence.
And waiting.
The hardest part.
Always the hardest part.
Mom sits beside me, holding my hand.
Astrid on my other side.
The ol’ lady sisterhood.
Women who understand this fear in their bones.
Women who've survived this waiting before.
"Tell me it gets easier," I say.
"It doesn't," Mom admits. "But you get stronger."
"What if?—"
"No what ifs. Not tonight. We wait. We hope. We trust."
I nod, squeeze her hand, and wait.
The clock ticks past midnight.
Past one.
Past two.
Still nothing.
