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Rated: 13+ · Appendix · Experience · #860096
tidal like
Ebb and flow, in and out, capacity at apex then empty to ringing of metal much like the bucket after use.

Memories stir with the vision of the latter; collection of ripened fruit, tedious and laborious under the hot sun, perspiration pouring from pores upon already dried and tanned skin, then hauled to Mama in the equally hot kitchen where jars abound and smell of goodies in creation filled the senses though not quite sweet enough was it to make the work seem just. Old is she now but not the soul within her; nevertheless she continues the practice to this very day upon numb, rickety limbs that fail her.

My bird so close to this heart awaits her flight away to her destiny and I languish in my own world, afraid to admit that she and I drift apart with her impending migration. Solidly does the inspiration of her being stay with me though tenuous is the hold upon the vision of what I thought we would someday become be. Though choice not mine there is some part of my innards that must allow her to go and, thus, nothing more than best wishes, love, and a piece of my heart I send along with her on her quest for her own satisfaction.

The children grow and become not so anymore. The road not clear but continue do we to attempt to wipe from it obstacles and hope the choices and judgements they make will keep them straight though not narrow are my dreams for them.

He and I trudge on and though he seems melancholic and sad; I feel as if progress made each day and the threads that tie us together grow bolder, brighter, and stronger as hours pass. Perhaps the end result not the fabric either of us would have picked at the fair but this one feels the strength as it grows and goes onto bond unbreakable.

Unsettled are the pricks upon the skin of my consciousness and fear a factor in all breaths but the unpredictable keeps excitement at full throttle and on any day that exceeds the dullness that held me captive for so long.

So, today, throw away regret and remorse of the sometime present cloud of dissatisfaction will I and ride along, happy to be at the carnival that my life has become.
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