Sunday, November 6, 2011

Chapter 3 Lost Soul, Hard Road

I walked into the kitchen. No flour, no bowl, no baking rolls. I tossed the coffee on the counter. As I walked out of the kitchen, I slid my fingers along the counter top. In the sink sat a single coffee cup. Back in front of my computer, I shook the mouse to clear the screen saver and read the last lines typed there.
A frozen soul, rusted shut by tears.
Heart stumbling along the broken path.
My shadow stretches out behind me as happiness sets on the horizon.
New love glitters ahead. Just a mirage I thirst after.
I tried to type but the screen got blurry. I laid my head on my folded arms and let the tears flow. Why? Why? Was it me? Did I do something wrong? I couldn’t find the answer. Then my thoughts turned to an unfocused God. What did I do to deserve this? Why can’t I be happy? I pounded the desk top with my fist. Slowly the tears ebbed and I sat back up. Using the back of my hand, I wiped my eyes. My faced my future. It appeared as an endless black wall. I could only see the ‘right now’. I looked at the clock on the wall. The minute hand shifted one position to the right. Help me to midnight, I asked nobody. I turned back to the computer screen. The images displayed were pictures I had taken. They consisted mostly of vistas I had captured while hiking. They might as well be black and white, out of focus. Once more I moved the mouse, stopping the slide show before her image appeared, though she was everywhere. My home was decorated with her memories.
I stood and walked through the living room. I sat on the couch where I could feel her feet in my hands. I rubbed them with lotion, the heel, the arch, each toe, one by one, kissing each as I finished. I left the couch and returned to the kitchen where I washed the cup, slowly under warm soapy water feeling her hands under mine. Her thin fingers intertwining with mine as I kissed her neck. From the kitchen, I wandered to the porch where I could see the ghost of her presence bent over the plants, working the soil, a strand of hair falling in her face. She used the back of her dirty gloves to swipe it away. Each plant, each flower, each rock glowed from her touch. I turned from the dull fall outside but when I did, I faced the closed door to the bedroom. I hadn’t slept there since she left. Unable to stop myself I walked slowly over.
I placed my palm and forehead against the door. Inside, I knew there was a whirl of memories, vibrant, alive. A hot tear ran down my nose. I had to turn away.
I let go a silent yell. STOP IT! I cried.   
Back at my computer desk, holding my head in my hands, I took inventory of myself. My heart beat once per hour, slowly and sadly, using only the effort it needed to be successful. Had I inhaled at all? Tears wrung from my eyes, left me dry, empty. My soul drifted, looking for a place to settle but like a child lost in the woods, it found no friendly place to rest. The mouse felt like a hundred pounds. The words on the screen faded in and out. I didn’t even want to think. I looked back at the clock. One more tick. This was a never ending day.
I began to understand why some chose a permanent relief or maybe heartache followed and remained forever. I shuddered. Many fled to parts unknown where email did not exist and the waiting game didn’t apply. I looked over at the phone, the red zero on the answering machine taunted me. What could I do? Where could I go? I felt like a junkie needing a fix but having no cash. I was desperate to rid myself of these feelings. Where could I go where she wasn’t? She had woven herself through every fabric of my life. I screamed to the ceiling, at the walls, down at the floor until my throat felt raw and hoarse. I ripped the recorder and phone off the end table and watched them smash off the wall. I grabbed my computer and lifted it over my head but I paused.
I set it back down. I typed.
I love you still but not always
Time, the irresistible force, fades
Upon the mantle of my memory
You take your place


  1. Taking each chapter at a time. Love the intensity of the feelings Glenn. Think we have all felt the despair in our lives. Good job

  2. Love the intensity of the feelings Glenn. Think we have all felt the despair in our lives. Good job