The Road Less Traveled

I listen to the birds outside my window. Their calls are worth more than Midas’ gold to me.  It no longer surprises me what remains, what I truly value after losing my best friend, my husband, my M.  My Mom’s voice on the phone every day is a treasure. We have fun, we laugh until I snort. That’s always a good sign. She can make me laugh like nobody else.  I only hope I make her life half as good.

My late husband’s voice on his old cell phone is a painful diamond, sharp and bright.  I just can’t stop calling that number, just to hear him one more time.

My job is a lifeline.

My cats are a beautiful relief from solitude.  Against my will, the world is seeping into my pores, luring me back into the land of the living.  I promised my husband that I would see him someday. But not yet.  A promise is a promise. So I live with it.  There’s so much heaviness in my heart, my soul.  But I keep moving forward, remember my training and cover my [posterior].  Because someone who knew how to survive told my M. that years ago, and it’s good advice. So I’ll use it to survive, until the storm passes.

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