OneWordToSaveMyself
"Sweep!" The rumble echoed through the crowd once more. "Sweep!" The stands shook. "Sweep!" Brooms pounded on the ground. There's something special about being present for a sweep in baseball. I count it among my fondest memories.
Should I or should I not go to the tailgate party? Inside, I said, "of course I should. I can do anything sober that I can do drinking. I have no limits." Then, once I was there, I looked down. My hands were shaking. My higher power was screaming at me, "go, now." Self-will run riot could have turned into a drink that day. Thanks to a pair of shaking hands and a last minute date, it didn't.
"Whoo it's humid out here," I think and chuckle to myself. Actually, I'm quite grateful for the level of humidity in Northern Nevada. Try South Texas on for size! Some summer days it's 100% humidity at 100 degrees. It's little things like lack of humidity, even in the face of sweltering temperatures, that I am grateful for in my life today. My hair kind of likes it, too.
She brushed her hair back from her face. The strands clung to her face, sticky with tears. Here she was again, in the same place, about the same time. The pattern had never been more clear. Paging through memories, she saw the insanity. She resolved, once and for all, to never repeat the cycle again. It was her life, not the cycle's.
writing since 2014 · 7 entries · 6 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Diane showed up.
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the words Diane reaches for
hairfaceherselfsweepmemorieshumiditybrushedstickytearspatternlovepursuitgratefulhandsshakingspot