| Subject: Letters to Samson - 19 |
Author:
Holly
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Date Posted: 19:53:57 07/10/06 Mon
In reply to:
Holly
's message, "Letters to Samson - 1" on 18:59:32 06/04/05 Sat
Some days are just all wrong from the get go.
This morning the phone rang 10 times, dragging me back from the land of the dead. A dog. My little Vera. Little truth. A friend I wish you could have known. A long overdue apology. And the phone?
Would not. Shut. Up.
Some time in the night, I was pulled apart, bone by bone and laced back together with pain.
You and your Dad were already gone.
There was no coffee.
No one to yell, "Mommy!" and maul my aching bones.
I would have loved to beat down the door to the land of the bed, finish that apology, kiss my little dog. Instead, I had coffee to brew, calls to return, errands to run.
I almost smacked dead center into a green Taurus, foggy until after I made it home to a note that read, "COME SWIM!"
I did. You saw me and yelled, "Mommy!" And we raced by your rules.
You won.
Later, I fed the feral cats and noted that all of them, even the one I caught last year, will go into the trap - for tuna. As I went back to the house, someone walked by wearing a long, hooded, black robe.
I thought it might be Death. I was glad it walked the other way.
Your face is cut like a heart in the moonlight, and I love watching you sleep. I marvel at your lashes, your chin, the sweetness of your breath.
Some days, you are my lifeline.
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