Faith

When she came into the room, she realized she was in hell.

Her mother was sitting in the middle of it. Broken.


Memory after memory was spewed all over the floor for both mother and daughter to see. Pictures of childhood. Pictures of high school. Grade School. Halloween. Christmas. Pictures of a baby girl naked in a bath tub. Pictures of the mother looking into her baby's eyes adoringly.


That life was gone. They both knew it.

She looked at her mother, with tears in her eyes, 'I'm sorry, Mom.'


Silence. The silent treatment was so common in this household.


'I learned my lesson, I won't do it again. I can't let myself do it again.'


Silencesilencesilencesilencesilencesilencesilencesilencesilence [neverending]


'Goddammit, Mom! I wish you could just hear me. I'm so so sorry. I just want to turn back time,' The daughter screamed.


Her mom went into the closet, grabbed some posterboard, and laid it next to the pictures. Never hearing her daughter. Never realizing she was standing next to her. Longing to be comforted. To be comforting. The mother went about her business creating posterboards of memories.


'This is probably the worst part of the funeral process...what pictures to place. Having to go through photographs when all you want to do is forget,' the mom thought, as she placed a prom picture in the middle.


Karen, mother of three, two boys and one girl. The girl, April, was the wild child, always getting into trouble. Karen gave up on April, decided to let her do what she wanted. She always said to herself, 'Abe will learn her lesson one day.' But this was not what Karen had in mind.


She had lost faith in her daughter, and on the day when April did not come home, Karen lost everything.

dangerous

I walk in with a chill down my back, even in the heat of the summer. People were everywhere, but I did not see any of them.

I walk up and see Joe. He began, 'What..'
I cut him off. 'The usual. And I do not want to hear it.'
He stared at me for a while, as I averted his eyes. I stared into the distance feeling his eyes all over my face. Trying to get a read on me. But he just sighed, 'Whatever you say, Kate.'

I sit down. And he puts the glass in front of me.
I look at it.
I knew this was dangerous.
I had been sober for exactly 6 months.
It was the longest 6 months of my life. And Joe knew exactly what I had been through. Part of me was kind of pissed that he let me through the door, but this was not his game to play. And he knew damn well of that too.

Vodka tonic.
My elixir.
Could I really let myself do this?

I close my eyes and imagine what would happen after this one drink:

I'd have one. Then another. Then another. And by the sixth, I would go back to my ex ask him to take me back. That I was wrong for leaving him, that I needed him as much as he needed me. And I'd stay with him for months, drinking as heavily as I had when I wasn't with him. He'd kick me out, probably. I'd run to my family who would stick to their, 'We told you we were done,' phrase. And I'd be back in rehab, going through withdrawals and therapy again.

I sighed. I took the glass and put it to my lips. I put it back down. I bring it back up.

Joe began walking over to me from the end of the bar, and I gave him a flash of the look my mother always called the 'Devil's Eyes'. He turned back around, knowing he was unwanted.

At that point, I looked at the bar. All the liquor, staring at me. Laughing at me. And I stare at myself in the mirror.This was too dangerous. And just not worth it.

I begin to leave and I hear Joe yell, 'Way to go Kate.'
I just say, 'Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm sure I'll be back again one day..'

And that was true.. maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow.
But one day.. there's a big chance I will play this game again..
And lose.

Writer's Block

This writer's block will be the death of me.
Hopefully, I can do some regroup and create something.