“How about we choose one a week that we don’t talk about it?”
AFTER WE GIVE HUGS and send them off, the little family…
After the Tangoes are put away
and the Ken doll’s sandal is found laying on a table
and the Matryoshka dolls
are tucked back into each other, safe…
After I take care of the sticky
from the orange juice spill,
thinking of the moment the cup tipped
and how much this old table has seen…
I am glad for the friend,
slowed by the storm
on his way from Michigan to North Carolina.
I am glad he accepted our invitation to stay the night,
glad to see his children again -
how much they’ve grown!
I am happy they remembered my house
and where the favorite toys were kept.
I am grateful for our chance to catch up,
to hear his story.
And I’m glad, I think,
we didn’t get into ours.
But mostly I’m glad
they didn’t see me cry.
* * *
SOMETHING’S got to give.
“How about for the new year
we choose one day a week
to not talk about it?” I suggest later.
Because we’ve been talking about it every day for months -
first thought in the morning,
last at night.
We consider it a good day
if no new shoes have dropped.
Heads on pillows,
we sigh long,
every 24 hours, like clockwork,
how we will ever fall asleep.
We always do, though.
Can we do it?
Can we pick one day a week and not talk about it?
Is it possible?
Is it healthy?
We refine the plan:
“If something comes up
we need to discuss, we will,
then choose a different day that week.”
And it feels like progress
’cause somewhere along the line
you have to take back control of your life
and maybe this is a start.
If we’re ever again
going to have a life
not dominated by this crisis,
better start now.
An act of faith that it’s possible. Practicing for it.
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