He was still waiting by the phone. His dad promised to call at 3 pm today. Three hours already passed and the phone had not rang.  I tried not to look at him because I knew that his eyes would reveal the disappointment, the pain. He didn’t want to look me in the eye either. He was afraid I would judge him, that I might ask him why he even believed his dad.  That man had been absent and lazy since he was six. Three years later, it had just gotten worse. I wanted to rush to him and just let him cry in my arms. My little boy, my baby, who right then was trying to fight back the tears. He was staring at his ipad, pretending not to see me. My throat hurt from trying not to cry, my stomach hurt from the anxiety and tension, my heart hurt like it was literally breaking.  I knew he was feeling the same way and I just felt helpless.

Today’s writing prompt from Robin Tuthill of LinkedIn’s Freeing The Writer Within:

Write about a disappointment.


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