kitrice
I was backed into a corner. He stood before me. I was shaking. Sweat was on his brow. I was quivering. His voice was quiet yet stern. I was feeling faint. At once we kissed, what we each had wanted all along.
He lifted the canteen to his mouth. Ahhhh. The refreshment. Nothing was better or more satisfying. The coolness. The wetness. But, he knew he needed to preserve the rest for later. It was a blistering 97 degrees. With no shade. He had to make the plateau by nightfall. The odds were doubtful.
The torch I hold for you is waning. The flame I thought would burn forever is getting less hot day by day. The sizzling I once heard constantly is now a crackle every now and again and it's annoying...like you. I'm putting this torch down. It's gotten heavy and burdensome.
You darn little varmint. I went to bed last night with a perfect lawn. Today, I awoke to routes of an underground city sprawled this way and that. No more yard of the month. You darn little varmint.
Eve had the apple. I have you. Passing in the hall at preschool as we drop off our daughters. I am tempted. Your cologne leaves a scent that haunts me until pick up. Your blonde curls. Your tight tshirt. Thankful I'm happily married but oh for just a taste.
I wonder who put the extra hours in this day. I feel as though I've been trying to make my way to the end of this day for far too long. Certainly it's time to slumber. Regroup. Try again in the morning. Curious about what awaits in the morning. More long hours? Perhaps super fast moving clock hands will assist me to Wednesday.
I have forgotten much. I remember love but not by whom. I remember touch but, again, not by whom. And, I'm afraid, I've forgotten you.
The crew fought against the tumultuous waves. Hour upon hour. And failed. The captain would have been so proud of their efforts. But he was the first thrown overboard.
I never know. But I don't usually waver. My husband goes back and forth. Wavering a lot. I wait. Think my options through and speak only after I've decided. I hate wavering. The "this is what I'm going to do" followed with the "no, I think I'm really going to do this." Aack.
Camp. Oh boy. When do I leave? I used to go to camp as a child. Why did I stop? Now that I'm a busy mom of three and wife, I could really use a week away. I could swim. Sail. Craft. Sing. Oh why did I stop going?
writing since 2011 · 10 entries · 10 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Kit showed up.
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10days written
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the words Kit reaches for
nowcampstopwaveringhourforgottenrememberhoursmorningdarnvarminttorchboychildbusymom