Breathe.
Keep breathing.
(Don't lose
your nerve)
It's another week of smiles, sweet little hands nestling their way into my soft spots and holding on tight; I am powerless to stop them. As it always does, work becomes my refuge, my hours of reprieve. I savor them, smiling on the subway in the morning and taking long quick strides down the last blocks to reach them, while everything else around me crumbles. Perhaps we are all falling, now, it is cold out still, and dark, and we have nothing left, but all these voices pull at me and demand of me and I have no more now to give them but expletives and exasperation, why can they not hear it in my faltering words?
But do you know, there was a great big thunderstorm in the City today. I heard it rolling around the edge of the island, bringing rain and lightning and pervasive mist to the streets, and as it roared, something in me awakened, began to breathe. Because thunder means the winter is lifting, rain means it doesn't snow. This dull, gray Friday afternoon meant spring is just a little closer to our fingertips.
And once spring comes,
my darling,
we will live.
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