Sunday, January 18, 2015

Another Sunrise

Walking through my neighborhood before my mom awoke, my brain momentarily flashed to sneaking out of the house as a teenager. Waiting for the moment around 1:00 a.m. when the rattle of a train masked my footsteps and the click of the closing door. The memory sparked a millisecond of adrenaline. The worries then of being caught, of whether I would actually make it to college, did my boyfriend really love me, would my back ever stop hurting, how soon could I possibly get out of my small town, and how would I explain all those mosquito bites? Now the worries circle around my mother. Will she spill hot coffee on herself if she wakes up before I get back? Did I remember to lock up the booze? What the hell, why is my neck hurting? Did I sleep crooked or are my vertebrae dissolving because I'm going to have arthritis just like my mother? Where are all the herons?


Ms. Moon said...

Yes! When my children were little, I used to get up before dawn to walk or run and every step I took I was nagged by the worries of what might happen if they woke up and my husband did not hear them.
But I was never a sneaker-outer. My boyfriend snuck in. Still. Plenty of anxiety there, as well.

Elizabeth said...

I hope you have a chance -- soon -- to let those worries just dissolve.

37paddington said...

You are doing a sacred thing, locking up the booze, taking care of your mother. It's love in action, and very beautiful, hard as it is.