It changes nothing.
It matters not.
I force myself to breathe, push my thoughts away. Stay in just this moment.
Go about my day.
I get up each morning, drink my coffee, pack his lunch.
Off to school, off to work. Come home, cook dinner, nag about chores while I check his math.
Wash the dishes, take a shower.
It all blends together.
The words I keep on thinking.
Barely breathing, still I'm sinking.
And I keep dreaming...
The early morning sunlight is spilling through the window, and I am awoken by something unknown...
The beep beep beep of the alarm clock is blaring, and somewhere in the background a door slams.
I roll over and bury my face in your chest, breathe in deep. I let out a small sigh, you groan and curl your arms around me.
The boys are arguing already about who gets next in the bathroom, and why do teenage girls have to take so long.
Must be a weekend, you're not gone to work yet. It's familiar enough, it's our every morning...
We sense the approach of one of the children at our door, an imminent threat to our peaceful morning moment, the realities and responsibilities of life are all there waiting.
Sometimes you crack a joke about selling the children, or running away, sometimes I'm largely pregnant and needing to pee, you rub my belly, whispering to the baby inside...
It always ends the same...I wake sobbing in bed, in the dark of night, alone.
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