The Space Between Waiting

Adapted from the short story The Space Between Waiting

The sea keeps its own kind of memory —

salt pressed into the cracks of what remains,

a yellow house gone,

a drawer of certificates

swallowed by water and silence.

Still, she came to the shore each morning.

Listened.

As if the waves owed her something

they hadn't paid yet.

The children arrived barefoot,

books soft with rain,

eyes asking what mouths were afraid to —

are we still going to learn?

She looked at the folded roof.

Said yes.

Sunlight found the broken windows.

Made everything gold for a few hours.

She made chalk from crushed shells,

her hands dusted white,

teaching what the storm could not take —

that showing up

is its own kind of language.

Every week, two hours of walking

to a list that held everyone's hope

but hers.

Patience, miss.

She smiled the way women do

when they have run out of everything else

except the will to stay.

Courage, she discovered,

is not loud.

It does not announce itself

or ask to be seen.

It is the quiet return —

the same feet,

the same door,

day after day after day.

Then the woman in the blue headscarf came.

Clipboard. Her name.

Words she had stopped rehearsing

because rehearsing hurts —

you are being awarded a grant.

She did not speak.

Only looked —

peeling walls, scattered chairs,

faces that had grown braver

through each passing day.

Her throat held everything

she had carried quietly

for eight months.

That evening, back at the water's edge,

the wind smelled of salt and open doors.

She understood at last —

waiting is not stillness.

It is the slow walk forward

when the road gives nothing back.

The sea sounded like a promise again.

Not the kind that slips away with the tide —

the kind that stays.

Adeyemi Olajumoke Ayomide

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Adeyemi Olajumoke A. is a student of English Language who writes poetry, essays, and children's stories in between classes and everyday life. Finding inspiration in the ordinary, she is often in a quiet corner reading or writing. Her work explores themes of waiting, home, faith, and the quiet battles people carry within themselves. She is still figuring life out, and writing remains the way she makes sense of the journey.