Saturday, August 23, 2014


I wasn't moving fast enough this morning.

I was still here when he started loading things onto the borrowed trailer. 

It only took an hour but with each passing minute the bitter taste of regret rose in my mouth. A person can do a lot to regret in ten years. 

As the hour grew long I became overwhelmed by sorrow, grief settling over me like a heavy blanket. The mourning is not so much for what was, but for what should've been. 

Suddenly the key is on the counter. He doesn't touch me because he knows that will break us both. 

He tells me not to cry and walks out the door.

He is gone. 

I will cry until I feel better. Then I will eat and live and laugh and love.

We will all be ok.

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