lizo612
Where is the time going? It disappears right before my eyes. I look at my daughter, my heart sees her with pigtails and without her two front teeth, then my brain and eyes and neurons override the image with her ten-year-old loveliness and emerging maturity.
The emptiness wraps and spirals around her. It sucks her down. Sure, there are people present, words spoken and strewn into the mainstream. But their thoughts are meaningless. Marit looks for substance that she can hold, grasp, hug tight against the numbing isolation of depression.
Finding none, she turns to substances of another sort.
"I double dog dare you." He spat the words out with quiet vengeance.
So I did. I swiped the roll of life savers and introduced myself to a guilt I haven't shaken in 37 years.
She blew a fuse. Big time. Whining children bickering to the ceiling and back. Days of sleepless nights and tortured dreams. And when the dog puked all over the newly clean rug, she lost it. But now her kids can swear like sailors at the drop of a hat.
One bucket. Mostly full. Trudging along tugging the weight. Sweat drips and water slops up on tired legs. The carried load revives.
What am I carrying today that can revive me?
writing since 2012 · 5 entries · 5 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Ms. showed up.
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5days written
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the words Ms. reaches for
dogwordseyesbucketmostlyfulltrudgingalongtuggingweightsweatdripswaterslopstiredlegs