Out of touch and out of steam. Rendered silent by my own thoughts and lack of focus. Too many pointless conversations, too much repetition. Addled. Them not me.
Shitty attitudes. Frustrations mount. Notes written in pencil. Anxious and fatigued. Oppressed yet humming.
It’s always in the back of my mind, that particular day – pulling the wagon around the driveway and down road. The sound of wheels on gravel. The sun on their hair, the grass, the bluejay. I stood in the driveway and soaked it up. The silence, the smell, the little hands gripping the side, knowing that one day 20 years later I would give anything to have that day back again.
Of course “I would give anything” is just an expression – a trite one at that. I’m good with trite. Very familiar with the trite.
But I would like it back again, if you please.