Life Essays

A Belated Look at 2018

2018 was a year of change, hopefully ushering in a year of growth.

My husband and I moved out of the apartment we had started our lives together in. We left behind terrible neighbors and an uncaring land lord to an apartment with heating, insulation, and sealed doors and window. We have neighbors that are kind and quiet, and a landlord who checks in to make sure we are happy.

I left behind a job I’d been holding for eleven years. A job I would have enjoyed had it not been for the emotional and mental abuse that was rampant there. It took me too long to realize just how much manipulation was happening, and more courage then I’ve ever needed before to leave. It’s proven to be the best choice I’ve ever made; while my anxiety is still a constant companion, the depression that left me paralyzed last spring has dissipated, and I’m able to face each day, if not head on, the at least with my chin up.

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Life Essays

Under the brown fog of a winter dawn…

This is… hard.

Christmas Day 2018

I stand at the end of the hall. I feel like a giant, too large for the memories that surround me. I can see my grandmother in bed, her frame so much smaller than the space she occupies in my heart, all rose gold and dust, all clouds in a big April sky.

I climb into bed with her, hair like spider webs strands and soft as silk, she brushes it from her face. I remember being small, as small as she is now, smaller, climbing under the cool covers to spend the night in her oversized bed, hearing stories, sharing my little girl dreams. Now I don’t know what to say. I talk anyway, I don’t remember now what it was that I said, except that I promised to come visit her on New Year’s Day.

She rouses herself from bed long enough to eat at the table with us. It is an ordeal, one that causes her pain. But she does it. She is strong and proud, even when broken and weak.

I want to cry. Instead I smile.

That night, as I lay in the circle of my husband’s arms, the steady rhythm of his heart breaks my own. Every beat is one I’ll never get back. I’m desperate for the rhythm to slow, for time to ease its endless forward assault. A storm inside me screams for something more, but nothing changes. I pull away, the sound of life too much for me tonight.

Continue reading “Under the brown fog of a winter dawn…”