She washes her mother with water and with love. Gently caressing the
body that looks like someone she once knew, but her mother’s mind has
already gone ahead and waits for the soul to return. She cleans away the
saliva from the mouth that once used to chastise and kiss and smile.
He
dreads the sun coming up as it means another day and another night of
little sleep. Somewhere between being ten years of age and this morning
it all got complicated. The knots are too tightly tied to try to undo
them anymore. He can hear the car next door starting up – the sign that
he has to do it all….all over again.
If it wasn’t for the kids she
would have left months ago, may be years. They were happy once. They
were in love back then but all she did was turn her head away, take her
eye off from where she was going and they slipped away from each other.
Okay,
so he’s not a kid anymore but he tells himself that the injections he
puts in his leg every morning are increasing his super powers. Yesterday
he told himself he could see through peoples’ clothing. It made him
smile and it greased another sticky day.
She’s 17 and gravity
hasn’t hit her yet. She doesn’t know what waits around the corner but
she is happy with her family and her dog called, Bertie. Oh, and her
boyfriend.
The old lady lives two doors up from no one. She’s been
there since the war and the neighbours have come and gone and although
she used to know everyone, she locks her door against the night. When
she goes, she’ll go like Eleanor Rigby. Then she hums what she thinks is
the tune.
It’s the end of another day and as the heads lie on
the pillow, or the sofa or the street, everyone should be standing up
there on the podium, arms aloft for a job well done.
To get through a day, any day, deserves a gold medal.
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