katalinka
He wore overalls and chewed tobacco. His yellow carhart jacket was oil stained and was loose on him. He was skinny from all the nicotine and caffeine he consumed non-stop throughout the day.
This Saturday I will be home watering the garden, watching the leaves grow. I want to catch the slug in the act of devouring my favorite plant. I want to see it chew on the leaf.
The stars were in the wrong configuration, or what? How else could you lose him? It must have been something of cosmic proportions that went wrong!
I hate to dwell in the past, but it comes up on occasion. I don't linger long though, I quick look and I move on...
In a minute... I said, when asked to take out the garbage. That was one day ago.
In a minute I will really take out the garbage, really.
In a minute.
The fractures to his psyche were mending. No plaster cast was necessary.
Down in the pits is where I am today. And why?
Too much time to think, not enough to do.
No more pits.
I am keenly aware that I have a big roll of fat around my waist. It was not there 4 weeks ago.
I
My mood switched from crying to laughing and back so fast that Corina had to interrupt me:
- I cannot adjust my face fast enough to match your mood - she pleaded with me.
My tennis racket was made of heavy wood, with the paint peeling off. The strings were starting to loosen. And it was way to big for my nine year old frame.
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writing since 2012 · 16 entries · 16 days shown up
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garbagejellygrindingminutetouchchatternestsmoodfastagopitswrongnecessitybreathdefinitionrestriction