It’s been many years since
the children began leaving home and going off to school. Longer still since the
sound of their young voices rose and fell in the excitement of playing the
newest game or with the newest toy. The children still return occasionally to
the place they once called home, but they have moved on now to homes of their
own.
The parents have activities
and interests that keep them occupied now that the children have gone. They
have slowly learned to adapt.
But what about the toys, the
ones that remain behind, the ones that generated so much excitement and fun so
long ago. They sit now silently in place, ignored and pretty much forgotten in
rooms no longer occupied by the children they once delighted. They wait for the
visits that come less often now, never complaining, in quiet resignation, they
wait. They wait for the times when they see their children again, and hear
their voices. Perhaps just a glance in their direction from the children or a
smile, recall memories of days long ago when they were the center of attention.
They wait for those moments.
When our son was very young
he couldn’t say the word children, he said gilgen instead. This painting is
titled, “Waiting for the Gilgen” and is oil on canvas.
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