The Morning Strength

When you've lost a love, what keeps you going?

The Morning Strength

                The clock rang another hour. She watched it as if it wasn't really there. Another hour to another day he was gone. The women got up slowly as if not to jostle anything, her swollen belly defined her frail body. She was with child, and every minute the child grew stronger. She stared nonchalantly at the kitchen, wondering when the last time she had eaten was. The beautifully decorated room didn't capture any sort of interest as she walked around grazing her finger on each momentum aimlessly. Here are the candles they bought together at that festival, a painting that he was so fond of. They we’re cold as stone; the warmth of his presence had left this room.

Her journey of no meaning led her into the living room, brandished with wedding pictures, displaying their happiness frozen in time. His charming smile shined brilliantly, and her eyes held all the love in the world. But she stood there, holding this picture, and her eyes were empty. The young and hopeful girl in the picture looked nothing like this woman. The girl that said "I do" had every intention of living a full and happy life with her soul mate, this women’s soul mate was nowhere to be seen. She longed to rewind time, back to the routine goodbye that was not meant for forever. They said goodbye in the same practice every day: a kiss on the cheek, and wave of the hand.  He was supposed to come back. The candles had all burned out, as was her emotions; nothing of her was left to give. Days of weeping due to one mistake left her empty as the glasses of wine by her bedside.

                The man this woman loved so much, has a problem.  A problem that consumed his life. His problems we’re unknown to her, those problems that caused him to take that needle and induce himself in the addictive substances that sent him spiraling. Leaving her wondering why she never saw the issues that should have been broad as daylight. The pain was hidden in the dark depths of his heart, like a stolen jewel.

                Laying her head weakly upon his chair, the unfeeling leather let her tears slide down without a trace. She watched them go, one by one. Each one representing sweet words, shy kisses, and peaceful moments. Her memories and denial forced a projection of his presence in the furniture. She wanted him to be there, smoking his cigarettes and staring into the blazing fire. She begged to every god believed in to bring him back. But nobody heard her faint prayers.

                She was lost in her own mind, did she fail to be the dependable women in his life? If she was stronger, would he have come weeping to her, instead of pander in the sin of a needle? These thoughts muddled her vision, she couldn't quite remember what day this was, who came to visit, which roses we’re dying. A sudden fierce rage took over her; she accused herself of every possible charge. She just wasn't good enough to keep him here.

What lead him to this path; he was the strong willed one, the iron pillar to their premature family. Keeping their glorious memories fresh, and there present stable. But the future was lost; the storm had worn away the strong stone pillar. She clung to the fabric on the seat hoping to retrieve comfort from the object. The desperation drowned her, filling herself with denial, false hope that he would unlock the front door and gather her in his arms, or express his anger at her for a mistake. Good or bad she would have taken it. She would have let go of all hostility if she could foreshadow the tragedy to come. She rested her body onto the floor, hoping for sleep to overtake her. To let her mind rest peacefully for a few moments, some kind of escape for this living Shakespeare tragedy. The time that they had spent together should have been cherished in every moment. She had not realized that time was running out, the invisible countdown had ceased.

The snow made soft fog into the dark windows, her heart was colder than each flake that fell. He was just like a snowflake, perfect and original, but they never stay forever. The night wrapped around her like a tender hand, she embraced it as her silent senses took hold. She could hear the owls, the crickets, all fighting the raging winter storm. Why are they still singing, speaking, living. Why hasn't there rest of the world died with him? Why didn't she also leave this imprisonment of life? Maybe she could change that. As quickly as she could, crying all the way, she grabbed the nearest bottle in the medicine cabinet. Then laid back down into the familiar spot on the carpet and wept, gripping the pills, trying to build her courage. She closed her eyes and surrendered to slumber.

At daybreak, the sunlight’s first greeting broke through the lace curtains and bounced off the walls. She stared at it, and the memories flooded back to her. She stared at her hands holding a dozen different colored pills. Here is her chance; she wanted to join him, in heaven or hell. She gingerly lifted her hands up to her mouth, when something stopped her. A delicate kick from her protruding stomach broke her from the daze. She slowly rejoined the rest of the world in awareness. This unnamed child was counting on her. She was depended on, to keep the small little heart beating within her. She stood up tall and strong and left all remorse on the living room floor.

Reviews

[Tim Thompson]

Great story.

[Nicole Kristen Marino]

thank you very much :)

[Tyler Myers]

Great description and imagery. I love it.

[Nicole Kristen Marino]

thank you, I really appreciate it :)