She sat on the bed in a cream colored slip waitin’ on her man to come home…cigarette burnin’ in an ashtray…glass of gin sweatin’ …photos on the nightstand …Kodak snapshots of the boys when they were younger…summer camps…holdin’ up a fish or two…her old man wearin’ a John Deere cap…smilin’ from ear to ear…proud of his family…

There were pictures of her too…buildin’ snowmen with carrots and sticks…her first car…slicin’ into a wedding cake with her hands wrapped ’round by his…sippin’ on a can of Budweiser up at the lake…she thumbed through ’em under a yellow lampshade…inspectin’ each one and rememberin’ back awhile when they were younger…drivin’ ’round town in that old Dodge Dart with the two kids in the back…takin’ ’em to drive-in movies…Burt Reynolds up on a screen…talkin’ through a tinny speaker attached to their window…talkin’ to Sally Field ’bout love…they were talkin’ ’bout love…

And she heard the pickup truck comin’ into the gravel driveway…that was the noise she waited for every night at this time…she quickly drank the gin as she walked up the hallway to the kitchen to put leftovers in the microwave…some meat loaf and mashed potatoes…little gravy poured on ’em from a jar…a can of Bud placed on the table…

Like every night when he came home he kissed her…held her in his arms a little tighter each time he saw her…asked if she’d heard from Frank or Tommy…she shook her head no…poured another glass of gin and tonic…sat next to him as he ate…proud as a bird takin’ care of her chick…

She liked pleasin’ him…had ever since high school when they started datin’…he was her first and her last…he couldn’t say the same…there were women in between the thirty-five years of marriage…he thought she never knew…women always know…

But for now he was home…he was her’s…she planned on keepin’ it that way…she wanted to die with this man by her side…wanted to be buried next to him…lay in peace forever…and ever…

This was her love…this was her love…