Past and present
Most days, I get by fine -- more than fine. There are many things to be joyful about and to be grateful for. But there are days where I come home, and just latching the gate brings a flood of tears; the sound of metal clanging together, unaccompanied by the the incessant barking of a dog to welcome you home, still sounds so unfamiliar to me. Like going to church without my Bible, or a night out at the movies without popcorn -- except that those things don't make you cry; not having your soulmate around does.
***
Grandma took two steps forward and looked thoughtfully at the two steps of our split-level living room. She furrowed her eyebrows and leaned herself on the wall. She insisted on walking on her own; I stood watching, ready to catch her if she fell.
She staggered slowly down the two steps; all the while I edged closer.
"I feel like a child learning how to walk again," she said, with a small smile. Finally reaching level ground, she heaved a sigh of relief, but her smile had disappeared; in its place, I saw her lips pursed in wistfulness, and her eyes glazed with a tinge of sadness.
***
Grandma took two steps forward and looked thoughtfully at the two steps of our split-level living room. She furrowed her eyebrows and leaned herself on the wall. She insisted on walking on her own; I stood watching, ready to catch her if she fell.
She staggered slowly down the two steps; all the while I edged closer.
"I feel like a child learning how to walk again," she said, with a small smile. Finally reaching level ground, she heaved a sigh of relief, but her smile had disappeared; in its place, I saw her lips pursed in wistfulness, and her eyes glazed with a tinge of sadness.
posted by Laughingcow at 9:24 pm
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