Feb 19, 2004
"In the middle of a cloud, I call your name."
The room my parents prepared for me is so luxurious. I feel like I'm in a hotel. Lonely like when you're in a hotel. But also private and safe. Except for when my mom bursts in and brings me something. Tea or a question. I should remember to lock the door.
There are bullfrogs outside. Imagine that. Bullfrogs. And just a little further down the road, there are railroad tracks. Sometimes a train comes rushing by. But you can't hear it from the house. You can just hear the frogs. And some crickets. In the morning, sunlight streams in through more windows than I've counted. The tile downstairs is cold underfoot. The doors have latches on them that remind me of the past. I like it here.
You got to live.
You got to love.
You got to be somebody.
You got to shove.
But it's hard.
It's really hard.
posted by Mary Forrest at 3:33 AM | Back to Monoblog