she covers herself in blankets her Mamma made whether twenty years ago
or just last week
the thought of safety comforts me
every morning there’s a whistle at eight o’clock sharp
in this town where she
the example of reliability soothes me
And then, just like that
there’s a ceiling fan she cannot figure out how to shut off
its a reminder of her inability
while in the bedroom
criticism flows far too easily for me
stepping out into the world with nature surrounding her senses
there’s a peace released
worthiness arrives to remind me
Forcing myself to sit and listen to the layers within me.
Sorting through the wishing and the want, the need and pleading so that I might see truth.
I’ve never had much use for patience, yet I realize I must endure it’s process, if I’m to make you proud and find myself sitting near you.
There’s a stickiness after the honey is put back into the cubbard, that reminds me to wash my fingers, or make the choice to lick the stick away.
Maybe I’ve forgotten how to play.
While picking up at the end of the day, there’s a continuous stream of words I hear, “If you don’t then who will,” and so I bend at the waist and continue.
Beautiful blankets to fold, which keep us warm. Sleepy time tea at half past 12 leaves an empty cup beside me.
All require tending.
A flood of memories resume their normal station within my head each night, as the quiet takes over. I place yet another from my day beside them in hopes of room for one more.
Tears escape the wells in my eyes, as I wait for confirmation I was seen today.
Does anyone else feel this way…
I am my best friend, and my worst of enemies, and probably should be, but I’m tired of myself.
Now even I want to leave me.
Sharing my moments were intended for you. My heart steadfast in convincing. I want to believe.
How can it be love, in the end, I’m feeling.
Was I put here to take care of those near me? How much strength do I have? How much sadness can I hear?
A season of sorrows pulls me closer – Can I endure?
Must I without you? Knowing full well I have Him and He should be enough to sustain me.
And do you know you sound like Him in my head now and I may never be able to live without you?
And then my littlest voice says, “Stupid.”
My eyes look to the ground, my lip turns slightly to the side, I pack myself away and force that little voice back inside.
Enough for one day.
Ann finished with the dishes, even the dirty ones, left in the little sink, found just past the front door of the studio apartment she’d rented from Shelby.
Leaning up against the light green counter, while looking out towards the stove, she exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Turns out moving is physically harder than she initially believed.
Why had she?
Did it matter if the stove was clean or not? She didn’t feel like eating anyway.
Ann’s legs weakened. It was a slow slide down the narrow cubbard and onto the kitchen floor.
None of this made sense anyway. It was all too soon.
The grey tile was cold. She laid against it for too long and woke up startled. Ann surprised herself by falling asleep, but the intensity of her dream caused her to jump. She straightened up into a sitting position, while her finger slowly traced the fresh indentions on her cheek.
What time was it…
Just then a lone roach crawled past her and towards the sink.
It’s just me and him.
Me, him and his tiny little army in the back of the cubbard.
She quickly got off the floor and added bug spray, killer or annihilator to her list of things to pick up at the store, possibly, or maybe one day.
Ann fumbled into her bedroom, after cleaning the bathroom and sitting space, nearly tripping on the step required to enter.
The door hit the wall behind it with a bang and Ann’s body shook. There wasn’t much room for her or anything else, but it would do.
She was thankful Shelby had sent over new and laundered bedding before her arrival. Admittedly, there had been little time for anything else.
She could handle living down the hall from a few roaches for now, but sleeping in dirty and used bedding would’ve only caused her further anxiety. Ann figured she’d cling to the bed’s cleanliness.
She focused on the purple and gold comforter covering the mattress . Was it designed for a tiny apartment bed like this or did the designer, who had carefully chosen the fabric and vision, imagine a grander setting?
She often wondered over people’s intentions.
She watched her fingers comb down the side of the bed, as if not really present in the room. With her foot Ann slid the closet door shut.
Eying her suitcases on the dresser she decided her clothes could wait. Like almost everything else in her life.
Briefly considering, obviously reconciling an internal struggle not to sweep the dust away, and lacking the strength to look the reality of the room in the eye, she made the choice to forgo her bedroom responsibilities for now.
Ann lifted the bottom window and scanned the view in front of her.
A black dog ran sideways across the quiet street with a yelp.
“Get outta here,” an old woman grumbled, while wiping her hands on her apron.
Ann slowly shook her head and held back a giggle, as she watched the dog run back towards town. The woman mumbling something as she turned and headed back into her garden was a pleasant surprise.
Ann smiled. Might have been the first time in months.
She’d go down and introduce herself to the feisty one next door soon. She pulled the curtains away from the window revealing twilight over the overgrown grassy hill in the distance.
She leaned her forehead in slowly and placed the palm of her hands against the cool glass, as her body submitted to the weakness she couldn’t overcome.
This sure was a sleepy town. Not one car passed by in the five minutes her face was stuck to the window pane.
At least the outdoor surroundings brought comfort.
Suddenly, she heard a long howl. It sounded like an animal in pain, and was coming from the south. The cry brought back another familiar sound.
Ann found herself walking towards the bed. Lost in recent events, obviously too painful to revisit, yet needing to forget, her body melting into the covers.
This is an old thought of mine from a few years back. Found it while searching for another story I’d written.
Something about this one though…
Why writing of melancholy comforts me I’ll never know. I began this blog because my friends said I was funny and needed to share my humor.
But my soul speaks differently.
What I’ve found is worth so much more. I’ve given myself. I’ve found me. And I’ll be.
Thank you for listening.
It is my hope light continues to shine it’s favor.
breath of sunshine
winter so fair
and there are daisies
in her hair.
Red Headed Sister
Inspite of it all? Redeemed. We’re all of these, right?
May have to add to these on and off throughout my journey.