It is okay to take the time to breathe. To think of the ones who never will again. To ride these waves of air, each one bearing me closer to the ones who struggle to catch their breath today. This sea of grief we share. I couldn't sleep last night thinking of shoes in the hallway or the garage. Toys on the floor, the notes to selves in the morning that they'd make their kids clean up when they got home. In years when I hurt too much for my own words, I'd grab others' descriptions and fling them into my own sorrow, hoping to plug the hole, block the pain, soothe the wound, repair that gaping mouth with things that belonged to other people. Today I see those words and they slip past before I can grab on. Instead I hold this imagined mess: shoes. toys. two days' worth of laundry. mud from the park. crayons. endless art.
No comments:
Post a Comment