Sounds of Waiting
By Christina Mohs

The woman smiles at the uneven banjo twangs of the green frogs in the small pond off the patio. She shifts her legs to prop them up on the bottom rung of the outdoor patio table. The balmy evening breeze slowly rotates the open umbrella above and it click-click-clicks as it picks up speed. In the darkened outskirts of the lawn, the chain link fence rattles as a spooked rabbit dives under the safety of the neighbors' shed.
Through the open kitchen window, she can hear her husband on the phone. He draws out his Os, the Minnesota accent; he must be speaking to someone in his family. She hears only bits and pieces as he paces the length of the phone cord and back. "No word... could take a few more months... hard to wait."
A sudden siren ascends in volume several streets over. From inside the house, the dog scrambles to his feet, nails scratching the hardwood, to take up his throaty howl at the passing ambulance.
The breeze picks up again, rustling the dwarf cattail grasses around the pond. The woman glances at the empty swing as it creaks back and forth, back and forth.