She sat on the porch and looked out over the big garden that stretched all the way down to the river that slowly passed by. Hopeful and waiting she studied each meter, but mostly she listened. Her ears were searching for that sound that had been with her for as long as she could remember. The one that made the green grass and the dancing river feel like her home. Minutes passed in silence, and every second that turned up without the sound seemed like a tiny eternity of something lost.
She wished for it to not be gone. For that day to turn over into the next where she would hear it again. Deep down though, she knew it had nothing to do with which day she listened for it. The silence had been there for days. Suddenly one morning it had just disappeared. She waited impatiently for it to return, but was waiting for something that never would be more than a memory.
A silent drop of salt water rolled down her cheek as she came to terms with the truth. She had grown older and ageing had robbed her.
She would never hear the crickets sing again.
©Christina de Vries