Realism

The Word returns. Catches me unawares, sneaks up and distracts me from conversation, work, errands. It teases me but disappears as I try to give it proper attention; it dances around my head and giggles at me behind my back. I am not angry. I am delighted it returns, however tentatively, and I try to relax, let it settle on my shoulder.

I have so much to learn from my children, he said. To look at the world with curiosity and joy, to live in the now and believe in the Goodness. Normally, I would smile at the thought of innocent faces and blank slates, but today I felt cynical. It's easy for children to be wide-eyed when they have yet to see how ruthless this world will be. They'll learn.

It always ends, so why pull the taffy of this relationship until the end of unbearable? Someday I will try to persevere, to stay and believe it may work, to not cut the chords prematurely out of mere cynicism. But not today. Because how sweet the song in your voice, but how ugly the pretense in your words. Your sugar isn't worth the toothache that follows.