Down and Then Some

Heavenly Father,

I sit. The house is empty. TV silent. The floorboards are quiet. The fridge hums in the kitchen. Words on the page feel like so many threadbare socks to my mind. The cat sighs. Thank God for that. I wait for an email, a phone call, a letter, or the door to open. However the world in busy and I am tethered by too much gravity. I yearn. I don't live alone. I might as well.

I long to share. Let us break the bread, let us stretch our neural networks over a book! Or a poem. Or an article, or a broadcast, or a stray thought. Iron sharpens iron. A sword in a corner is a meaningless thing. Perhaps it has a past. Perhaps it has a future. However, the present is the only real thing, and the present is empty. Am I real at all?

I startled myself the other day. I giggled. It so suddenly broke the silence that I felt embarrassed. If there is no one else to hear the sound, could it have just been imagined? Perhaps more startling, I read a joke today. It was very funny, but I didn't laugh. I didn't smile. My eyes didn't even crinkle around the edges.

The sun has been falling like ash on the windowsill. Perhaps I should close the shade. My cereal tastes like dust on my spoon. I know making eggs won't help. My ideas feel like lint in my brain pan. I'd get as much fulfillment from contemplating the beige ceiling as I would from painting. Or drawing. Or whatever. There is nothing inside.

My sister went to pick out her engagement ring. She took my mother and my sister, and though I stood right there, I was not invited. I said nothing. I am a coward.

Sometimes it is all I can do.

I know summer is beautiful.
I know life is a magnificent thing.
Perhaps I am blind this season.

Sometimes writing helps.

Amen