Stories

Stories
-by Laurie Benson©2020

A much needed break
from the distractions of
noise,
mostly noise from other
people, and my mind's
stories.
Imaginative.

I could entertain myself
for hours with the
stories I tell, and sell.
But sometimes it's nice
to let someone else's
stories entertain me.

That's what books are
for.  I want to read,
"Waldon," but maybe
it will entice me to
run away and live in
a cabin,
alone.

This morning I dared to
go into the room of
my son and hug him,
good-bye.  A simple hug,
not permanent, just
another day of work.

My eyes allowed themselves
to wander, be surprised
and to smile at the way
his clothes are
strewn about. All
about.

The stories I tell myself
of what will happen
if I don't watch closely
enough, are the stuff that
hell is made from.  Stories
that are too dark, too deep.
To just let clothes on the
floor, be clothes on
the floor.
Nothing more.

From all people, I crave
conversation,
and connection, but it
also prickles up the back
of my spine, sometimes just
a word, a phrase, a line.
Intolerance for
complaining, explaining,
gossiping and
overthinking.

Silence is more scary.
I need words.
More laughs, more honesty,
more sincerity. More of
what reminds me of why
we are here, and that
we might want
to stay.

So I say it.  I thank him
for staying.  For working
through the loneliness,
the abandonment and
fear.  For keeping on,
and working at it.
For being here.

Thank you for staying.




photo courtesy of:
Hush Naidoo on Unsplash